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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27657845">Intrigues in the Dark</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilevixen/pseuds/fragilevixen'>fragilevixen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The X-Files</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Brainwashing, Canon Divergent, F/M, Post-Episode: s06e12 One Son, RST, Religious Cult, Romance, Scars (mental and physical), UST, casefic, light humor, small town</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:34:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>47,466</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27657845</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilevixen/pseuds/fragilevixen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A string of suicides leads Mulder and Scully to a sleepy, coastal town in Oregon for the second time—on their return to The X File—as tensions run high and nothing is as it seems.</p><p> </p><p>“Sometimes we need the fog to remind ourselves that all of life is not black and white.” – Jonathan Lockwood Huie</p><p>Annie, the prospect of drawing you had me excited and terrified...terrified for putting as many easter eggs into the piece as I could (that you'd appreciate) while upholding the canonical values AND giving you something you'd enjoy, breeze through, and still find intriguing. I hope I did just that.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fox Mulder/Dana Scully</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>X-Files Case File Fanfic Exchange (2020)</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Wreckage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/admiralty/gifts">admiralty</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warning: Open discussion about suicide, varying degrees of torture, and cult behavior is mentioned in this fic. None of it is intended to harm or, otherwise, trigger the reader.</p><p>This is a serious issue, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is available to help. The lifeline provides 24/7, free and confidential support for people in distress, prevention and crisis resources for you or your loved ones, and best practices for professionals. Please, call 1-800-273-8255. Don’t stay silent. This might be “just a fic” but it holds real issues, with real consequences. Don’t suffer alone.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to the delightful Paisley aka IDontWannaWrestle (XLibris) for the Cover Art</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>It stings</em>
</p><p>
  <em>In the shower</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And the sad part is</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You know exactly what</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’m talking about</em>
</p><p>-M.R.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Thursday, February 11<sup>th</sup> 1999, 10:15 PM</p><p>Crescent Beach Trails</p><p>Cannon Beach, Oregon</p><p> </p><p>                The smoke was rising and mingling with the fog layer as the flames mimicked the rhythm of swaying bodies in a circular pattern in the sand. Bare feet, gooseflesh covered arms and legs, salt kissed hair, and the twinge of alcohol in the air as laughter mixed with a hum of hedonism. None of them were more than nineteen. None of them old enough to buy that cheap beer they were drinking like it was going out of style. None of them were concerned with the possibility of being caught or told to break up the party as the flames licked higher and reached for the sky as the illumination of shadows against the cliffs became that much brighter. The air went electric with the sounds of drunken teenagers as they tossed another warped log onto their enormous bonfire. Irresponsibility be damned; none gave a shit as the stereo was turned up to cover the blasting of the nearby Lighthouse horn as it warned a passing ship.</p><p>                Wouldn’t want to come too close to the cliffs and be another casualty to the crags and curves of the coastline. She’d be just one of many that had thrown herself against the jagged edges and ripped herself apart in the process.</p><p>                “Yo, this cooler is almost empty!” One of the guys shouted as he held up the last beer, the remnants of melted ice dripping from the can as he staggered his footing. “Do we have any more to replenish the supply?”</p><p>                A blond with her hair in a messy bun, an oversized hoodie, and athletic shorts raised a glass bottle into the air, spraying the contents of her beer in the process as she captured his attention. “Mack, we got a box over here!”</p><p>                “Bring it over, Susie,” Mack snapped his fingers as he continued to sway to the music, letting the alcohol flow through his bloodstream a little more as he tipped his beer back, swallowing enough to initiate a hiccup.</p><p>                Susie wasn’t any more capable of walking a straight line, but she did her best to carry the case of beer around the bonfire to the open cooler, doing her level best to not break every bottle as she refilled it. “I shouldn’t have started the pre-party antics quite so early. I’m not even going to be able to crawl home after all of this.”</p><p>                “Who says we’re goin’ anywhere, doll?” Mack tapped his beer can against the bottle in her hand as she stood up, giving a proper cheer as he kept it in the air. “Fuck every single one of the adults! We’re staying out all night and sleeping in the sand. Tonight is our night, and we don’t have to be anywhere or answer to anyone for the next twenty-four hours.”</p><p>                The amassing group cheered in agreement as the sand became increasingly displaced with the movement of feet and chairs as their numbers seemed to grow. Stragglers began to accumulate from the edge of the shoreline as the trail lit up with the flickering lights of flashlights and swinging lanterns from several latecomers carrying towels, blankets, chairs, and more accouterments. They looked like fireflies in formation weaving down the pathway as they neared the bonfire. Debauchery was on their minds as they weaved their way down the narrow, well-worn trails with the dwindling lights of the nearby town in the distance acting as nothing more than a silent reminder that they were under a semblance of a watchful eye. Not one of them seemed to notice or care as the tide was at its highest, the salty foam of the rolling waves moving close enough to nip at toes as they meandered too close.</p><p>                It was their taste of danger as the chill surged and met the heat of flames while the stereo blared.</p><p>                Mack wandered toward the gap between the sunken sands and the line in the water as he watched his sister’s feet disappear into the waves while she squished her toes into the bubbling remnants. “Fel—you’re a stick in the literal mud. Why aren’t you drinking and partying with the rest of us?”</p><p>                “I am drinking, dumbass,” Felecia, Mack’s twin sister, jiggled her beer bottle at him and kept her other arm tucked in the front pocket of her hoodie while the white caps crashed in the distance and sent the salt spray into the air. “Your definition of partying and mine are very different…just because we’ve been given a free pass to have fun doesn’t mean that I want to wake up in the morning and not know what I did the night before.”</p><p>                “I’m just living it up and letting it fly, sister,” Mack put his arm around her and sprayed his beer as he talked, the sloppiness setting in with every swallow. “Taking advantage of every last moment of freedom we get.”</p><p>                “You’re just guaranteeing that I pay a penance for the spots you decide to let it fly, brother,” Felecia tilted the bottle, shaking her head as the sand hummed with the movement of ordinarily well-behaved teenagers as control became absent. “Go have fun racking up my future sentence.”</p><p>                “You’re such a drama queen, sister,” Mack swatted her across her shoulder blades and caught a sideways glance as he danced his way toward a little circle of girls as they drank. “Live a little and let it go.”</p><p>                <em>Live a little.</em></p><p>                Felecia rolled her eyes at the concept as she felt the warmth of the bonfire at her back while the salty, foggy air kissed her face. This was her definition of living a little as the sand weaved between her toes and the tide came up to her Achilles, fully enveloping her feet before slipping back to the sea. Sure, the sound of laughter and poorly executed crooning was great but there was nothing better than the perfection of a wave rolling and crashing, over and over. It was paradise and she was living so close to it every moment of her life. Tonight, though, would have to be about the drunken rager behind her as she spun around and watched her twin as he rubbed up against three different girls before settling to dirty dance against Iris. The sloppy, drink laced giggle carried across the smoke and fog as Felecia rolled her eyes and took a step closer toward the flames as a couple of boys tossed another log into the center.</p><p>                Felecia shook her head as she noticed that Iris just might’ve been drunker than Mack as she stumbled, nearly taking him down in the process.</p><p>                “I love this song!” Iris’s hair was up in a ponytail and swayed in the breeze as she moved her hips to the beat while she tugged Mack’s hands around her waist. “Crank it up!”</p><p>                The new synth-pop, new wave beat was striking against the backdrop of firelight, the clinking together of glass, and the reverberating roar of the ocean as she sang right along with the music. The rhythm was alive and thriving as the group mellowed, paired up, and flickered like the blaze that centralized them. It was hypnotic and even had Felecia feeling the vibe as the fluid sound of the keyboard blended with the strumming of the guitar while Rod Stewart’s unique vocals reverberated against the cliffs. It touched every note, every sweet melody, that sung to their hopes, desires, and dreams as every teenager on that beach contemplated running away. The song spoke of happiness, seeking out unfulfilled dreams, and freedom.</p><p>                <em>We got just one shot of life, let’s take it while we’re still not afraid.</em></p><p>
  <em>                Because life is so brief and time is a thief when you’re undecided.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                And like a fistful of sand, it can slip right through your hands.</em>
</p><p>                They’d listened to this song a thousand times before, but it never held profound meaning until the alcohol flowed and the flames licked skyward while they tasted a moment of liberation. It was no longer an air of celebration as the catharsis began to set in and Felecia finally allowed the electricity to seep into her veins as she reached for the clouds. The lyrics were so much more than an anthem. She sang along and danced with her friends as her feet kicked up a sweeping line of sand as she skipped around the blaze. It was liberating as she grazed fingertips with the drunk, touch-hungry teenagers that she made eye-contact with.</p><p>                “I love you all so much!” Felecia raised her beer, shouting over the top of the music, briefly capturing the attention of the group as they made the same motion. “Tonight, my sisters and brothers, we drink to our freedom!”</p><p>                Her toast earned a resounding cheer before the dancing resumed in a collective swaying and rubbing together, a scene that would’ve turned every parental unit’s hair gray.</p><p>                <em>Young hearts gotta run free, be free live free</em></p><p>
  <em>                Time is on, time is on your side</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                Time, time, time, time is on your side</em>
</p><p>                The timing had been right and their patience had paid off as tension finally eased—leaving the previously weary group nothing but each other to enjoy an extended duration of depravity. Most of the teenagers had not been paying attention to their surroundings beyond scoping for parents along the furthest edges of the beach as a few stray stones took a tumble down the side of the cliffs. Rounded stones and pebbles tumbled down, past her field of vision, but didn’t quite register as anything out of the ordinary. The change in the atmosphere slapped Felecia with the bitterest sting of reality as she tilted her chin up as a streak of billowy satin white and long, silken strands came tumbling toward the sand. She hesitated as her eyes glanced up at the top of the cliffs, at the gap in the grass, and heard an icy wailing that lasted no more than a moment as it carried in the wind.</p><p>                The air went out of her lungs as the thud shook the sand beneath her feet and pulsed above the music.</p><p>                “Did anyone see that?” Felecia had already sobered up as she approached the direction of the boom, not taking her eyes off the disturbance in the sand.</p><p>                “See what?” Mack turned, frustrated and confused over the interruption in his partying as he watched his sister walking toward the dark. “Felecia, come on, stay by the fire! You’re going to get <em>me</em> in trouble!”</p><p>                “Something fell over here, Mack,” Felecia had tunnel vision as her heart thudded in her throat, the shades of darkness gathering along the beach as the satin white stood out amongst the rocks and slopes of sand. “I’m just going to check it out, brother, it’ll be fine.”</p><p>                “Goddammit, you’re not going over there by yourself,” Mack hated being the twin of someone so determined but he wasn’t going to let her go exploring falling objects alone as he bounded through the sand in her direction.</p><p>                Felecia wanted it to be her imagination running wild or a trick of the wind as it played with her fear but the soft, shiny material lined with a delicate, lacy edge barely concealed the figure beneath. Felecia’s eyes fell on the splayed out fingers before tracking up to the profile of a slender, elegant face beneath a head full of wavy, raven hair. Felecia swallowed the shriek as the streak of blood from her ear passed down the porcelain cheek, etching a trail like a tear past the streaky, red lipstick. The woman didn’t move but her eyes told the story as they stared straight ahead, void of feeling but showing the signs of the soul that had resided there as the color began to fade from her flesh. Felecia felt the emotions surge as the contorted parts of her body started to take shape, telling the story of the jump that led her to this point.</p><p>                It wouldn’t have taken much of an imagination to stretch for something horrific to formulate as the face took shape; the familiar eyes a shell.</p><p>                “Oh my God,” Felecia had her hand over her mouth as the face finally registered and the reality kicked her in the gut. “Mack, we know her.”</p><p>                “Holy fuck!” Mack turned away, shouting toward the group while the pumping of his heart sobered him up just a little. “Someone’s gotta go back up the trails for help!”</p><p>                The group of teenagers weren’t much of a help as the screaming set off the line of dominoes as they began to run, leaving their gear behind while the fire raged on. Felecia took her eyes off the white satin as Iris nearly knocked her onto the body to flee. Absent fear, an emotional impulse clicked into place as she perched in the sand, tucking a single strand of hair behind the woman’s ear. It was the least she could do as chaos unfolded and melancholy claimed the shore. Mack skidded past his crouching sister, leaving her caught in the vacant stare of eye-liner stained brown eyes as a single tear streaked down the curve of her nose and blended into the trail of vermillion at the swell of her lip.</p><p>
  <em>                Young hearts be free tonight</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                Tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight, yeah</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>If you reveal your secrets to the wind,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You should not blame the wind </em>
</p><p>
  <em>For revealing them to the trees.</em>
</p><p>-Khalil Gilbran</p><p> </p><p>Friday, February 12<sup>th</sup>, 1999, 6:45 AM</p><p>X Files Office – Basement Level</p><p>FBI HQ – Washington DC</p><p> </p><p>                “Mom, I don’t know what I have planned for Valentine’s Day or if I even want to do anything for it, but I have to let you go, okay?” Scully rattled the keys in the door while she balanced the phone between her cheek and her shoulder, wincing as the lock refused to give. “I’m already at the office, and I have things to do…I’ll call you later…Love you, too…Bye.”</p><p>                Scully hung up, nearly dropped the phone, and gave the door a bit of a kick while jiggling the keys loose, swinging the door on its hinge. The scent of familiar dust and trapped air wafted along her nostrils, bringing with it the potent, overwhelming odor of jasmine, cedarwood, blackberry, and violet. Scully squinted as she placed it and sighed audibly as the presence of Diana surrounded her like an unrelenting ghost, although she hadn’t died. She was still ever-present and lurking around, weaving in and out of every space that Scully would’ve rather she’d stay far away from.  Scully heaved a heavy sigh and tossed her things into the adjacent chair while she stared at the poster for a long moment.</p><p>                “Just get through the day and stop focusing on this bullshit,” Scully mumbled and waved her hands around, knocking a thick stack of files across the top of the empty desk. “Are you kidding me?”</p><p>                They hadn’t been touched. Not one signature had been placed and the thin layer of dust on the edges indicated more than enough for Scully that Jeffrey Spender and Diana Fowley had done little to nothing with any of them. Scully tucked a single tendril of her hair behind her ear as she glanced at the first two and noted the preliminary recipient dates of both; they were over eight weeks old. Scully scoffed and gathered them, the frustration swelling as she took the time to put more care into potential casework than prior occupants had even thought to attempt. It was enough to make her sick to her stomach as she turned to push each file into the cabinet with a label marked <em>unread</em>.</p><p>                “Oh, you<em> are</em> here,” Mulder’s voice was an unwelcome presence as he walked into the office carrying two coffees just in time for a resounding slam of the drawer. “Jesus.”</p><p>                Scully turned and stared him down, burning a hole through him as she straightened out the front of her shirt and pushed her hair out of her face. “I’ve had a lot on my mind, woke up over an hour before my alarm, and just decided to come in early. Is that a problem?”</p><p>                “I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t missed an important meeting,” Mulder extended the coffee in his left hand, offering it to her after taking a sip of his own, a chilly tone hovering between them. “One sugar, light on the cream…”</p><p>                “Thanks,” Scully watched as he sank into the chair and made a face, adjusting it after it dropped down almost all of the way to the floor. “Is this really how it’s going to go?”</p><p>                “What do you want me to say?” Mulder looked up at her as she cradled the coffee, her eyes distant as she stared at the poster behind him. “We’re back on the X-Files and everything is right with the world again.”</p><p>                “That’s easy for you to say,” Scully had a defensive posture as she took her first sip of the coffee, shocked that she’d let those words spring free as Mulder did a double-take to look at her. “I don’t <em>want</em> you to say anything that you don’t want to say. There’s been enough placation, hasn’t there?”</p><p>                “It sounds like you want to be direct but have not turned the corner enough to do so,” Mulder took a figurative swing at her as he shoved a drawer shut and fluttered a cloud of dust into the air, renewing the scent of Diana’s perfume right along with it. “Enjoy the coffee, Scully.”</p><p>                Scully would’ve liked to have said he was being childish but it was something else entirely as his emotions went cold and the empathy went dry. He was unapologetic and stood at the edge of unfeeling as he narrowed his eyes at her before looking back down at a stack of papers in front of him. He didn’t want to know what was burrowing underneath her skin enough to make her so irritable, but he wouldn’t even have to wager a guess as he saw her glance at a box with Diana’s name on it sitting in a chair next to the door. It wasn’t enough that they were back in their office; Scully was preoccupied with so much more, and he couldn’t fix it.</p><p>                Not that she was in any mood to let him.</p><p>                “Am I…interrupting?” Diana’s sixth sense for bad timing was becoming second nature and it instilled a sensation of pure, unrelenting anger in Scully as she made eye contact with her as she stood in the doorway.</p><p>                “Not at all,” Mulder could see the pensive stare from Scully in his periphery as he straightened out his spine and captured Diana’s attention. “We’re just getting in for the day.”</p><p>                “Glad to see you back on your feet and in this office again,” Diana wasn’t the greatest at small talk but her focus was entirely on Mulder as Scully leaned against the file cabinets, her coffee in her hand. “There are a couple of files that I transferred over to Assistant Director Skinner that might fall into the category of an X File. I’m sure he’ll be bringing those by later.”</p><p>                The unmistakable odor of cigarettes and black coffee permeated off of Diana as Scully shook her head in disbelief. “Did you come down here for something or were you just on your way to make small talk?”</p><p>                “Not everything has to be a business visit, Scully,” Mulder furrowed his brow, shoving Scully’s face in the figurative pile of mud as he lit the fuse for her to begin building the wall between them, brick-by-brick. “It’s completely fine for Diana to come by and say <em>hello</em>.”</p><p>                “We do have work to do, Mulder,” Scully was pointed with him as she pursed her lips together and burned a hole through him with a stare. “I’d like to get back to that.”</p><p>                “A few minutes isn’t going to put a damper on the day’s progress,” Mulder didn’t hesitate with his retort as the tension rose.</p><p>                Scully swallowed her pride and her dignity right along with it as a smug grin inched its way across Diana’s lips. She didn’t want to hear their small talk and she didn’t have the patience to be their third wheel all over again as she let the hot coffee burn the back of her throat, jolting a nerve that nearly elicited a rush of tears. She wasn’t granting them satisfaction. Not here, not now, and not when that fucking woman’s expression was taking shape into amusement over the fire she had just set. It wasn’t hate that Scully was feeling, though, as she averted her eyes at the floor. It was unrestrained jealousy and a growing seed of inequality that had her doubting every decision she’d ever made.</p><p>                It had her doubting the partner that was doing his best to give her the cold shoulder from just feet away.</p><p>                “I just came to get this box of my personal effects and wish you both good luck,” Diana was saccharin in her approach but the thought behind the words was sincere as she picked up the box, doing her best to avoid bodily contact with either of them as she aimed the oversized container in front of her. “I’ve got a new assignment and a plane to catch.”</p><p>                “Already?” Mulder stood and followed her toward the door, a half-smile perched on his lips as Diana glanced in Scully’s direction. “Where have they got you running off to, this time?”</p><p>                “That’s classified, Fox,” Diana inspired a cringe from Scully as she over-pronounced his first name and reached for Mulder’s arm to give it a final squeeze. “You know how it goes. Expertise is interchangeable and dispensable at a moment’s notice. Must set myself apart from everyone else somehow. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”</p><p>                There was more than enough sexually charged energy wafting from Diana’s goodbye and Mulder’s affirmative au revoir that Scully felt like an intruder, even after her presence had left the room. She looked up from her fingers folded around the cup between her palms and caught the glacial stare from his hazel eyes as he signed a document in front of him. The silence carried, swept through the room, and heightened the mental strain between them. He was going to punish her for that comment and his expression hinted at him holding a grudge to boot. For the first time, they refused to take notice of each other’s insecurities and weaknesses, hardening their hearts once more.</p><p>                It was safer that way.</p><p>                The hurried, evenly paced steps coming down the hall kept them from focusing on each other. They recognized the tapping as belonging to Skinner’s distinctive gait before his pensive expression was visible in the doorway. It was a welcomed interruption for the tightly wound dynamic within the office. Scully sank into the adjacent chair, mildly relieved at the concept of a distraction that didn’t have long legs, dark hair, and feminine curves. Her eyes darted toward Mulder, scrutinizing his features, even as Skinner walked through the open door with a file between his fingers.</p><p>                “It’s like a wake in here,” Skinner couldn’t help himself as the wall of anxious energy smacked him in the face as he stood at the side of the desk. “You got what you wanted and it’s looking more like you’re still stuck upstairs in the bullpen.”</p><p>                “Only three sips into the coffee, Skinner,” Mulder was only partially lying as he held up the cup and bent it to his lips, avoiding making eye contact with Scully. “Try not to go right for my throat before I can even finish my first cup.”</p><p>                It was radio silence from Scully on the subject as she shrugged her shoulders and crossed her legs before straightening her back against the chair. There was nothing more elusive and anger-inducing than one of Scully’s stone expressions. It had Mulder questioning himself on more days than he’d ever want to admit, but he couldn’t let his safeguards crumble at his feet.</p><p>                “Don’t get cozy,” Skinner held out the file and dropped it in front of Mulder, kicking up a cloud of dust in the process as his perked expression looked out of place between them. “The Portland Bureau had an interesting request for assistance on a case from one of their smaller, coastal towns involving the suspicious deaths of three women.”</p><p>                Mulder opened the file and skimmed the page, his furrowed brow intensifying with every word he read. “These are being ruled suicides? How would they need the assistance of the X Files?”</p><p>                “Ruled a suicide, yes, but the red flag would be multiple suicides within a short period that all share more than three similarities,” Skinner pointed toward the paperwork and adjusted his stance as he lifted the first page. “The same location, clothing was nearly identical, and they were all dolled up similarly…complete with red lipstick.”</p><p>                “Sounds like ritualistic suicides or homicides meant to look like jumpers?” Scully reached across the desk and pulled the small scale photographs from the inside of the manilla, thumbing over each angle of the crime scenes. “I’m assuming no one is doing much talking?”</p><p>                “The agents in charge are Hayes and Whittaker. They’ve had little success prying information out of the people in town, down to the witnesses that saw the third woman fall,” Skinner crossed his arms and watched the disjointed partnership in front of him become increasingly severed as they ignored one another.</p><p>                “So, we’re on the next available flight to Portland, huh?” Mulder looked up at Skinner and pushed the file toward Scully after perusing through the contents of the second page, barely absorbing enough information to get the general gist of things.</p><p>                “Pack a rain slicker and your umbrella,” Skinner knew that Mulder was already visualizing the case as an adventure in the pedestrian. Still, a glimmer of interest was at least hidden on Scully’s face as he moved toward the door. “Try not to set fire to an entire town on your first case back.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Fog</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mulder and Scully travel to Cannon Beach through a dense marine layer and heavy rain. It’s cold, and the crime scene leaves more questions than answers after they arrived in the sleepy, little coastal town.</p>
<p>“I like the muted sounds, the shroud of grey, and the silence that comes with fog.” – Om Malik</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning: Open discussion about suicide, varying degrees of torture, and cult behavior is mentioned in this fic. None of it is intended to harm or, otherwise, trigger the reader.</p>
<p>This is a serious issue, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is available to help. The lifeline provides 24/7, free and confidential support for people in distress, prevention and crisis resources for you or your loved ones, and best practices for professionals. Please, call 1-800-273-8255. Don’t stay silent. This might be “just a fic” but it holds real issues, with real consequences. Don’t suffer alone.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>The trouble is,</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You think you</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Have time.</em>
</p>
<p>-Buddha</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Saturday, February 13<sup>th</sup> 1999, 10:30 AM</p>
<p>Sunset Rest Area, Highway 26</p>
<p>Seaside, Oregon</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                The rain battered the backseat window as Scully watched the snaky streaks of moisture colliding and splitting down the center. Agent Hayes, Whittaker, and Mulder had stepped out to get air, leaving her to contemplate the awkward journey in silence. Mulder had done his best to ignore her on the flight but the seating arrangement was its usual side-by-side placement. He made small talk, avoiding topics that involved more than a three-word answer, and fell asleep in the middle of their flight. Ordinarily, Scully would’ve appreciated his head against her shoulder as he sawed a few logs, but the thoughtless look she received the second he roused was more than enough to kill any semblance of interest she felt.</p>
<p>                The connecting flight wasn’t any better after turbulence sent her straight into his lap after walking back from a bathroom trip.</p>
<p>                The unmoved expression from her partner was the icing on the cake as she stared out the window at a sky full of clouds.</p>
<p>                “Earth to Agent Scully,” Agent Colleen Hayes was perkier than Scully was used to but not overly so as she leaned across the front seat, waving a hand in front of her face to snap her back to attention. “You know you were kind of far away for a minute?”</p>
<p>                “Caffeine hasn’t kicked in quite yet, I guess,” Scully shrugged her shoulders and glanced at Mulder as the conversation with Agent Whittaker looked more like he was hearing the results of a rectal exam rather than experiencing a meeting of the minds. “Everything okay?”</p>
<p>                “We’re just getting a good stretch before we finish the last forty miles,” Hayes smiled, the glints of gold popping out in her mahogany irises beneath the deep chestnut hair she kept in a tight bun. “They’ve got a vending machine…need a cold pick-me-up?”</p>
<p>                “Sure,” Scully was caught somewhere between a deep-rooted urge to smack the look off her face and the comfort of not having to pretend as though the divide wasn’t growing between herself and Mulder. “I could go for a tea or a coke.”</p>
<p>                “You got it. I’ll be right back,” Hayes left the door ajar as she moved toward the vending machine underneath a visitor’s stand, grinning in Agent Whittaker’s direction as she passed him. “Hey, Whittaker…are you about ready to head out? If the rain is this bad out here, I’m shuddering to think what it’s like at the crime scene.”</p>
<p>                “Yeah, I think we’re both ready for the last leg of the drive,” Whittaker was a little shorter than Mulder but he had a similar gait and build, with sandy blond locks begging to curl on top. “You need a drink for the road, Agent Mulder?”</p>
<p>                Mulder’s eyes diverted toward the car to scrutinize Scully’s distant expression despite his gut screaming at him to stop. “Yeah, that might be a good idea.”</p>
<p>                Hayes and Whittaker were strikingly different from any DC agent other than the clothing that seemed so stereotypical of their occupation. They looked so much less brutalized by their work that Scully wondered if her dark circles were as pronounced as Mulder’s seemed to be. She wanted to blame it on the job but a bitter sting of regret was creeping in as she fixated on his lips through the rain-slicked ripples as the wind turned. She had to get her mind squarely focused on the case and off of what had transpired between them. Brick by brick, she’d rebuild the fortress around her.</p>
<p>                Scully coughed and diverted her eyes toward her lap as Mulder was the first to make his way back to the car, his hair tousled from the precipitation.</p>
<p>                “They had lemon iced tea,” Hayes had picture-perfect timing to cut the tension in half as she angled her torso around the front seat, jutting a bottled iced tea in Scully’s direction with a fair amount of condensation on the container. “That should give you a pretty good jolt of caffeine.”</p>
<p>                Scully nodded, smiling in earnest as she took the tea from her and balanced it between her knees. “This will hit the spot. Thank you, Agent Hayes.”</p>
<p>                “I could’ve gotten you a tea, Scully,” Mulder muttered a little insincerely from behind his drink, the cap balanced between his fingers as he tilted it back, staring her down.</p>
<p>                “It’s okay. Hayes offered before I had a chance to ask if you were getting anything,” Scully let the top of the bottle pop free and felt the awkward atmosphere continue to swirl between them as she glanced at him, forcing a gentle smile to save face.</p>
<p>
  <em>                Why can’t you just act like you used to?</em>
</p>
<p>                They were both thinking it in unison and intensifying each other’s discomfort as they drank their tea in silence. Scully wanted to hollow out her heart as every ounce of trust in him teetered on the edge of a cliff. By contrast, Mulder wanted to erase every memory as it continued to push its way to the surface, reminding him of all the things they’d said. It was as though they’d continued to shove a lit cigarette into each other’s open wound; wholly unaware of the damage they were doing to the other. It was cyclical, and they were entirely too stubborn to recognize the pain they were inflicting.</p>
<p>                “Excuse me, slowpoke…Do you plan on moving your ass anytime soon, so we can get to this crime scene?” Hayes rolled the window down and called out toward Whittaker as he fiddled around with a wrapper on something sweet.</p>
<p>                Whittaker grinned and turned, dangling the wrapper and his drink as he tiptoed through a puddle toward the car. “Ma’am…You’re impatient and I’m wrestling with a Ding Dong. That’s important.”</p>
<p>                “There are so many jokes I could make,” Hayes smirked as he got into the driver’s side with his chocolate-covered cake still in his mouth, the wrapper finally gone from the outside of it.</p>
<p>                The level of hypnotic attraction floating back and forth between Mulder and Scully’s temporary cohorts was overt and bordering on nauseating as Whittaker did nothing to hide a wink as he chewed the last of the cake. Hayes rolled her eyes, radiating that magnetism from her partner in the driver’s seat as he turned the ignition on and grazed the top of her hand with his own. They were like teenagers on a double date and the couple in the backseat was less than interested in their PDA or each other. It wasn’t exactly professional, either, as the scene unfolded in front of their colleagues.  Their affections drew Scully in and she stared a little longer than she had wanted to as Hayes coiled her fingers around Whittaker’s while flashing a pearly smile.</p>
<p>                It wasn’t until she felt Mulder’s gaze on her that she tore her eyes from bearing witness to their cutesiness to glance at him.</p>
<p>                “I don’t know how much information your ADA gave you about this case but we’ve been looking at the Cannon Beach suicides for a while now and each one brings up another question,” Whittaker put his soda back into the cup holder, diverting his line of sight into the rearview for a moment to capture their attention. “We’ve only been given access to three individual cases…but I remember hearing about a string of jumpers along that same stretch of cliffs when I joined the Bureau nine years ago.”</p>
<p>                “I know it’s a long shot to ask but were those additional cases from the same general vicinity?” Mulder swallowed a gulp of his tea and tightened the lid back on, fidgeting as he looked away from Scully. “I’m not entirely sold on the idea that these cases are anything other than suicides but it couldn’t hurt to take a look.”</p>
<p>                “Most of them had either lived in the Cannon Beach area at one point or had recently moved away and were visiting family at the time of their deaths,” Whittaker handled the wheel with ease, navigating through the winding highway as the wipers cleared the rain in intermittent spurts.</p>
<p>                “I remember those cases,” Hayes still had her drink up in the air, her index extended as she spoke, pointing toward the windshield for clarity over her memories. “Same age range as the ones now—but it had been a few years since anyone was reported. Every single one of them wore the same Dahlia red lipstick and a thin, satin nightgown.”</p>
<p>                “They kept derogatorily referring it to the dejected singles suicides every time we had a new report,” Whittaker cringed and increased the wiper speed, taking a moment to look at the woman next to him as she squeezed his hand.</p>
<p>                “How many were there back when you started?” Scully’s eyebrows elevated as she caught Whittaker’s reflection in the rearview. “It sounds like it should have been investigated even then.”</p>
<p>                “It’s listed in the Cold Case division with fifteen attached files,” Hayes turned at the break between the seats, making eye contact with Scully as the sunny disposition had begun to fade from her face.</p>
<p>                The thought of fifteen different files having a stamp of “apparent suicide” when they might not have been made Scully’s stomach turn. The ache of not knowing, with certainty, what claimed their loved ones…it was more than enough to inspire a feeling of nausea in her belly. She imagined the layers of dust collecting on each one of the boxes and the discoloration of the labels marred by time. They were lying in wait for fresh eyes or anyone to give a damn. They weren’t unlike unlit matches; without a spark and air to coax life back into them.</p>
<p>                Perhaps, it was time to connect the dots and swing the doors wide open with enough for someone to care.</p>
<p>                “Has the Portland Bureau begun the arduous task of connecting the Cold Cases with these or is it more of a hunch that has gone fruitless?” Mulder cleared his throat, the same expression forming on his face that had graced hers as he glanced out the window for a moment. “Having access to those files could lend a bit of evidence to our investigation.”</p>
<p>                Mulder didn’t have to look at Scully to know he’d persuaded a hidden smirk from her, awakening it from a fog despite the resistance not to.</p>
<p>                “Filed the paperwork to have the Cold Cases brought up from storage yesterday afternoon,” Whittaker had a shit-eating grin on his face, the delight evident in his tenor as he trapped his tongue between his teeth.</p>
<p>                “It takes forty-eight to seventy-two hours to get everything processed but we should have a phone call when our office is ready to send someone to us with it,” Hayes was digging in her purse for her lipstick, her nostrils flaring as the winding curves of the road made the task that much more difficult.</p>
<p>                “There could be so much in those files that might turn the page and save a few lives along the way,” Scully was mesmerized by the look of the downpour through the thicket of trees, her musings traveling far from the car.</p>
<p>                “I’m more concerned about a town that manages to have an ongoing series of deaths,” Mulder was already contemplating what they would be facing in Cannon Beach as he raised the bottled tea to his lips to take a drink. “There could be more than a few skeletons waiting in the collective closet.”</p>
<p>                “Oh, about that…” Hayes squinted and looked over her shoulder at Mulder, an uncomfortable countenance coming over her. “I can’t describe it accurately but there’s something off about everyone in this town.”</p>
<p>                “Off?” Scully’s tone changed as she turned her head, elevating a brow at Hayes.</p>
<p>                There was a long pause as the sound of the wipers filled the cabin. Hayes glanced at her partner, searching for the words, and heaved a heavy sigh. The sound piqued sufficient curiosity for Scully and had Mulder working over scenarios before blinking twice. They’d been in worse situations but the lack of information seemed to be a patterned aspect of their lives that neither could’ve anticipated. Whittaker cleared his throat and forced a smile as they moved around another series of bends in the road. It was as though Hayes and Whittaker were holding onto something out of concern for Mulder and Scully.</p>
<p>                “I, uh…” Whittaker stammered and scratched his head, the pallor of his skin fading as he processed his thoughts. “The four times I came here in an investigatory capacity…I caught a vibe that had me wondering if I was walking into a controlled experiment. They were pretty sobered, almost robotic.”</p>
<p>                “They were just, not quite right,” Hayes wrinkled her nose and faked a bright smile. “I’m sure it was nothing.”</p>
<p>                For the first time since they’d left DC, Mulder and Scully took a genuine, long look at each other as a mutual thought passed through their minds. Cold cases, suicides, and a town that had been more than a little beguiling to agents investigating. They were unfurling the possibilities silently and none of them were good. None of them untied the growing knots in their stomachs. Something was undoubtedly off and they wanted to know where it began…on the cliffs of a sleepy, little town or in the bustling city under the guise of the FBI.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>11:10 AM</p>
<p>Crescent Beach Trails</p>
<p>Cannon Beach, Oregon</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                The smell of salt, the mist of swirling fog, and the distant, traveling cries of seagulls surrounded every sense as the car doors shut with a resounding series of thuds. The picnic bench at the end of the trail partially concealed the bright yellow caution tape as a wide break in the clouds cast a bright, nearly blinding light across the edge of the shore. The black and whites, with their circulars still flashing blue, white, and red, were scattered along the parking area, blocking off the entrance after the rental pulled in. They’d already made a mess of things and it was more than a little evident that the rain was going to do more damage as the day marched on. A stench wafted in the air; dead fish and stagnant seafoam.</p>
<p>                It made Mulder gag a little as the scent sailed past his nostrils while he followed Whittaker and Hayes down the rock clad path toward the marked crime scene.</p>
<p>                “This is a mess,” Hayes stumbled as they reached the first rise of dunes, the swell of a sinking tide barely meeting the halfway point along the sand. “Locals have been trampling through the scene and the tide did the rest of the work.”</p>
<p>                “You’d be surprised what you can find in a pile of sifted sand,” Mulder maneuvered past, displaying a touch of arrogance to go along with his agility as he navigated the unstable ground with ease. “Even with a bunch of blues mucking it up.”</p>
<p>                <em>Mulder, for once, just don’t.</em></p>
<p>                Scully sighed as she lagged behind the three of them, her shoulders slumped at the remark. She didn’t need him acting like an ass in front of more colleagues, especially ones that did not deserve it. Much to her surprise, the lack of her presence at Mulder’s side was noticed as he did a half spin to look for her. Those hazel, constantly distracted irises found her and pierced through her as they did all too often. Mulder blinked as she met that same gaze in a weak attempt to shrug off getting caught looking.</p>
<p>                “This looks like one too many college parties,” Whittaker cracked, smirking at the horizon as the lightning kissed the sea off in the distance before turning to look at his partner. “Absent the co-eds passed out with their beers still in hand, of course.”</p>
<p>                “I don’t even want to know what kind of all-nighters you participated in when you were a student,” Hayes lifted the barricade, a single eyebrow raised as she tore her eyes away from him, smirking as she hailed one of the officers in the distance. “It’s good to know you might be pliable, though.”</p>
<p>                “Ah, come on, you knew that already,” Whittaker laughed, following her like a dejected puppy as he ducked underneath the tape. “You’ve been at my side for too long to not remember <em>cheap date</em> status.”</p>
<p>                <em>What in the…fuck?</em></p>
<p>                Scully and Mulder made eye contact, the confusion mixing with shock as the flirtations between Hayes and Whittaker fully sunk in. It sparked a curiosity in Scully as she shifted her shoes in the sand and brushed the hair out of her face. Mulder shrugged his shoulders, ignoring the continued dubiety that was brewing over the ongoing dalliances in front of them. Mulder didn’t want to preoccupy himself with all of it and the notion was evident as he moved toward the primary grid of the crime scene. There was far too much to delve into to focus on the shallow information as though they had the time to gossip. They were already unloading the details and piecing it together like a jigsaw puzzle.</p>
<p>                “Are  you coming?” Mulder turned as he saw Scully remaining behind with a distant look on her face that he hadn’t seen in a long time.</p>
<p>                “Yeah, just give me a second,” Scully nodded and pivoted her hips, shifting focus toward the sea as a wave popped up above the skyline.</p>
<p>                Scully wasn’t entirely back in work mode but the downturn in the direction of the breeze had her senses pulsing. It was enough to tug at her consciousness, heightening her awareness. Scully tucked a stray hair behind her ear as the wind spiraled, gathering along the back of her neck, reminding her of their years in Naval housing. The difference, though, was night and day, as the chill of a Pacific wind couldn’t compare to the teeth-chattering grip of an Atlantic gale. There was something less inviting about it, though, as the ripple of foam nibbled along the sand, leaving behind a bare surface as it swept back.</p>
<p>                It was metaphorical as she sidestepped the disappearing imprints from everyone’s shoes to duck under the yellow barricade.</p>
<p>                “Is there anything left for us or has the tide done all of the work of scene eradication already?” Scully came up behind the group, interrupting a conversation in mid-sentence as an officer handed Hayes a stack of photos.</p>
<p>                “We’re in luck,” Hayes flipped through each photo, doing a handoff as she perused through each one, a fixated expression on her face as she spent at least thirty seconds poring over them. “This scene has been worked multiple times.”</p>
<p>                “Our crime scene investigators were on scene less than an hour after the call came in,” Officer Jeffery Crouch couldn’t have been more than twenty-three, his perfectly pressed uniform was wet at the shoulders, with crisp edges. “We marked it off, lit as best we could, and photographed everything. We took the body to the morgue.”</p>
<p>                “We can see that,” Mulder wanted to appreciate the matter-of-fact tone but the obviousness of the grid set up just inches away was too much. “How long did the scene take to process? How long did the body stay out here—exposed to the elements?”</p>
<p>                “She was out here for a maximum of two hours,” Officer Henry Hutchens was on the other side of the barricade, pacing along a section of sand littered with beer bottles, his eyes cast down at the mess. “We’ve still been out here sifting so the processing is ongoing.”</p>
<p>                 Mulder couldn’t help but notice that Officer Hutchens wasn’t looking anyone in the eye and he had an anxious twitch about him as his fingers were tapping his thumbs in hopeless refrain. It was one of his red flags and it looked terrible. Mulder tilted his chin and met one of Scully’s knowing glances as she caught a glimpse of the same action. She nodded subtly and resumed her crisscross pattern around the perimeter, dodging the glass in the process. The bonfire was still radiating heat at its core and the driftwood still crackled like a last gasp for breath at death. Mulder met her at the outer edge of the massive circle as she knelt and pushed away from the untouched sections of skeletal wood, her eyes studying the ghostlike plume of smoke from the core.</p>
<p>                “Do you smell that?” Scully wrinkled her nose as she held a section of wood in the air, casually sniffing it while Hayes and Whittaker talked to the officers on the scene.</p>
<p>                Mulder inhaled the notes of pitch and liquor wafting into his nostrils until it stung, the hidden scent beneath coming up like it was familiar. “I recognize the pitch and the alcohol but that other smell…is on the tip of my tongue.”</p>
<p>                “Fungus,” Scully stood and reached for an evidence bag from a nearby kit, slipping the piece of wood inside. “Earthy and medicinal—teenagers were burning a little more than firewood out here.”</p>
<p>                “You don’t think it has anything to do with what happened to our victim, do you?” Mulder was confused by Scully’s actions but it was more than enough to intrigue him as he followed her toward the edge of the cliff.</p>
<p>                “It doesn’t hurt to look into it,” Scully raised an eyebrow and licked her lips, tasting the salt in the air as she stepped into the open grid, briefly making eye contact with one of the officers. “Driftwood doesn’t typically become spongy enough for a fungus to grow on it. This was added to the fire and it seems like a unique additive for a bunch of teenagers looking to get drunk and score.”</p>
<p>                “Any light in the dark, I guess,” Mulder shrugged both shoulders as he treaded through the sweeping sand, climbing toward a lesser-used path that led to the top of the cliff. “I’m going to go up to the top and see what it looks like from above.”</p>
<p>                “Is this one of those profiler tricks?” Hayes called out to him as Mulder was kneeling near the top following a series of masculine grunts to stay on the vertical ascent.</p>
<p>                “Just a couple feats of boyish agility, superior balance, and rugged sense of direction,” Mulder aggressively swiped at his pants, shaking loose the accumulation of sand as he crouched in the patchy, tall grass.</p>
<p>                “No, really, what are you doing up there?” Hayes had one of those giggles that came out in short bursts and likely incited embarrassment as she covered her mouth and looked at Scully, a smirk hiding behind her palm. “That doesn’t work on you, does it?”</p>
<p>                Scully shook her head before craning her neck to look up, the spritzing of mist against her skin as the squall spiraled. The truth of it was that she’d ordinarily entertain the reach and deliver a little jab right back but the growing strain between them was hard to hide, hard to ignore. She just wanted to focus on the job, on the paramount task at hand. It wasn’t like Mulder was allowing his teases to rule his consciousness as he hovered over a spot in the sand, surveying it a little harder than normal. His concentration face was an oddity as his bottom lip popped free and his nose scrunched while he visually dissected the sand.</p>
<p>                “Has anyone photographed this area over here?” Mulder elevated his hand and made a circular motion with his wrist, dangling his fingers toward the edge of the cliff.</p>
<p>                “Yeah, but we can take more if you found something that would help with the case,” Hutchens gestured toward one of the rookies carrying around the camera, snapping his fingers with a hint of irritation as he took his attention away from Mulder. “Hey, we need that over here…right now!”</p>
<p>                “What did you find, Mulder?” Scully inquires, contemplating the expression on his face as she took a step back to look up at him.</p>
<p>                “If you were intending on jumping and had relinquished your fate to the decision of death, would you at any point turn your feet?” Mulder pressed his fingers into the patches of grass, holding his arms wide apart as he peered down at her, both eyebrows aiming up as the scenarios began to unfold in his mind. “Or would you move smoothly, with purpose, toward the edge…and let the air do the rest of the work?”</p>
<p>                “I’d say that the probability of hesitation would be slim to none if the intention was death, Mulder,” Scully began her clamber up the rocky footpath, utilizing her palms to steady her trek to the same area. “Why?”</p>
<p>                “Look at those marks in the sand, next to the grass, and tell me it doesn’t look like our victim hesitated,” Mulder pointed at the area of well-indented dirt and sand, where rocks had shifted in a circular pattern and changed direction abruptly.</p>
<p>                There was a pause between them as the flash of the camera squelched for a moment before the light pulsed with the click of the mechanism. Scully had been waiting to see the fire in Mulder’s eyes as the stark, white glow illuminated the intensity that had begun to dim for far too long. She swallowed hard, surveying that section of the ground as though it were ticking away at the seconds of a countdown. They weren’t losing daylight but they were losing time and clarity with the fresh smear of moisture. It was muddling every shred of potential evidence.</p>
<p>                “We’ll make sure to get prints of these sent to the archive,” The officer carried the camera away, handing it off to an evidence collector as she passed by with a stack of bags, signing away the chain of evidence.</p>
<p>                “Scully, I see the indecision in the sand,” Mulder wiped the collected mist from his cheeks and chewed the inside of his cheek as he looked at her, expectantly.</p>
<p>                “It could have been any number of things that would cause her feet to make marks along the ground like that,” Scully bit down on her tongue and glanced at the white caps as they popped up above the surf in the distance, the hum of the sea tugging her in every direction. “I’m going to need to see a body before I can decide, definitively, whether it was because she wasn’t trying to be out here…with intent.”</p>
<p>                “Let’s get you to the medical examiner’s office, then, and get a better look at the victim.”</p>
<p>               </p>
<p> </p>
<p>               </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Quotes by:<br/>Om Malik<br/>Buddha </p>
<p>Reiteration of just how thankful I am for my kind contact with information on the crazies -- GOOD GRAVY. Monika, you rocked out the beta work and I am so glad that this turned out.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Scars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Partners at odds while the others seem perfectly in sync—will the continued disconnect between Mulder and Scully lead to problems as their case begins to take a shocking, unforeseen turn?</p>
<p>“Four personalities are bound to clash.” – John Deacon</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning: Open discussion about suicide, varying degrees of torture, and cult behavior is mentioned in this fic. None of it is intended to harm or, otherwise, trigger the reader.</p>
<p>This is a serious issue, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is available to help. The lifeline provides 24/7, free and confidential support for people in distress, prevention and crisis resources for you or your loved ones, and best practices for professionals. Please, call 1-800-273-8255. Don’t stay silent. This might be “just a fic” but it holds real issues, with real consequences. Don’t suffer alone.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>How beautiful you are</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He said</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>A tapestry of scars.</em>
</p>
<p>-Atticus</p>
<p> </p>
<p>12:00 PM</p>
<p>Medical Examiner’s Office</p>
<p>Cannon Beach, Oregon</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                The scent of medical-grade disinfectant went acrid against the permeated odor of dissolving salts and sea spray. The front doors of the building, glass from floor to frame, swung out with metal fixtures and showed the signs of exterior, semi-permanent condensation build-up. The tap of a pen leaving Mulder’s hand drew Scully’s attention back to the top of the counter as he finished signing his name at the sign-in sheet. Scully fidgeted at the front desk as the clerk clicked away at her station, occasionally looking up to smile at them as she let her screen load. Mulder wasn’t granting much of his attention to anything as thoughts were already back on that beach, sifting through the sand.</p>
<p>                “It will take just a few minutes to have Ms. Ballard’s body moved from temporary cold storage to the examination room,” The clerk had her hair pulled back into a tight bun, not one hair out of place, as she rubbed her lips together to redistribute the coral-kissed lip color across her mouth. “If you’ll just wait a few minutes, Agent Scully, I’ll call you back as soon as we have the space ready.”</p>
<p>                “Could you make sure that I have access to a rolling table?” Scully glanced at her nametag and smiled softly as she leaned against her elbow. “I’d appreciate it, Kimberly.”</p>
<p>                “Yeah, absolutely,” Kimberly nodded; the wide grin unintentionally bigger than necessary as she carried the clipboard toward the back.</p>
<p>                 “Did she seem a little off to you?” Scully captured Mulder’s attention and wrinkled her nose as she ran her thumb across the nameplate on the counter.</p>
<p>                Mulder hadn’t processed the question completely as he watched the blurred silhouettes of their new counterparts having a jovial discussion on the sidewalk just outside. “Off? She seemed a little overly polite if that’s what you mean…”</p>
<p>                “She has her nameplate out on the counter but her body language on display was as if she wasn’t used to hearing the sound of her name said out loud,” Scully’s brain was winding around the idea, twisting through the implications as Mulder seemed less interested in hearing her talk with every passing second. “That’s kind of weird, don’t you think?”</p>
<p>                “Do you think they wake up every day and immediately call each other to make sure the other is in a good mood?” Mulder was preoccupied with the blooming dynamic between Hayes and Whittaker as he watched a tendril of hair get tucked carefully behind her ear, coaxing a deep, affectionate grin in the process. “Or are they on drugs? It’s gotta be drugs.”</p>
<p>                “I would’ve thought you’d be taking this case a bit more seriously given it’s the first one back on the X Files,” Scully rolled her eyes and glanced back at the swinging door, waiting impatiently for Kimberly to return. “You know they’re sleeping together, right?”</p>
<p>                “This isn’t an X File. This is the FBI’s poor excuse for placation after opening a division that they’d rather bury,” Mulder grimaced and flicked a spent sunflower hull into a nearby wastebasket after swirling it around in his mouth, opting to not look her in the eye a single time as he ranted. “Nah, they’re friendly but they’re not <em>that</em> friendly.”</p>
<p>                “I think your profiling skills are a touch rusty,” Scully knew that the dig was more like a strategic blade between his ribs, complete with the twist of the handle. “Either that…or you’re purposely putting on your blinders.”</p>
<p>                Mulder opened his mouth and swallowed the retort as the squeak of the backdoor preceded the appearance of Kimberly’s twinkling eyes and pearly whites. Scully inhaled a deep breath and felt the tension climb up her back before settling at the base of her neck as the clerk nodded in their direction. Her timing couldn’t have been more opportune and necessary. Her presence couldn’t have been a more welcome distraction. Accomplishment and excitement were written all over her face but she had no clue that she had just stopped an argument from progressing as the returned smiles were simply from relief and not mutual respect.</p>
<p>                “Agent Scully, I have you all set up in the second examination room,” Kimberly kept her gloved fingers along the edge of the door, holding it open for her as she glanced between them. “Will you both be going back?”</p>
<p>                “I’m going to see if Tweedle Dum or Dee plan on doing any interviews while you slice-and-dice,” Mulder elevated his eyebrows at Scully as she moved beyond the edge of the counter, catching one of her sideways looks. “Call me if you find anything.”</p>
<p>                “Sure thing, Mulder,” Scully could’ve slapped him in that very moment as he barely waited for her confirmation before walking out the door.</p>
<p>                He was doing everything he could to make the crack between them expand into a massive crevasse.</p>
<p>               </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>12:30 PM</p>
<p>North Spruce Street</p>
<p>Cannon Beach, Oregon</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                “Does it ever <em>not</em> rain out here?” Mulder was muttering just loud enough for Hayes and Whittaker to hear him as they straddled the edge of the sidewalk on Spruce Street near the <em>North by Northwest</em> Gallery’s front entrance.</p>
<p>                “Do you ever wonder why it’s so lush and beautiful here, Agent Mulder?” Whittaker knocked a cascade of droplets loose from one of the bushes with the tips of his fingers as he turned around while Hayes held onto the handle of an umbrella next to him. “It rains between nine and ten months out of the year.”</p>
<p>                “Sure, the entire state fights yearly increases of seasonal affective disorder,” Hayes was staring straight forward as another blast of wind nearly ripped the umbrella from her grip. “…But no one can deny the lush greenery all year long.”</p>
<p>                “That was drenched in sarcasm,” Mulder’s eyes were everywhere but straight forward, catching quick glimpses of faces before they disappeared behind closed curtains and doors. “I’m beginning to notice exactly what you two were describing this town.”</p>
<p>                “We are <em>not</em> welcome today,” Whittaker laughed it off as he heard the distinct click of a door closing and a deadbolt shifting into place from one of the nearby homes. “That’s one of the issues of a small town, they will make sure that the red carpet is rolled up and hidden before they do their best to push you out of town in a verbal manner. It’s like being shunned by a Church community after they’ve discovered you’re gay.”</p>
<p>                “I guess that means I should keep the Elvis impersonator gear in my suitcase,” Mulder joked and felt eyes on him from a nearby business as they turned the neon open sign off. “Are we still in rural Oregon or are we in Colorado City, Arizona?”</p>
<p>                Hayes coughed and cleared her throat after a lengthy pause set off by a well-timed look from her partner. “You’d be surprised at the similarities between those two and I say that with the least amount of irony. It’s a little cautionary, actually.”</p>
<p>                Mulder couldn’t help but look back on the number of small towns like this that he and Scully had investigated over the years. They’d all inspired a certain amount of wariness and prudence on a conscious level but every crag had managed to come from left field. He was guaranteeing something similar even as the cheerily painted driftwood became ever more drenched by rain. It hid something darker, sinister, underneath the surface of sandblasted surfaces that had begun to warp with time. There was no history like a dirty one.</p>
<p>                “Agents, back again?” Aiden Townsend was straddling the edge of a porch, his wry smile crooked below sapphire blues and beachy, blond hair that had been cropped to a military-esque length. “You’ve brought a friend…I’m Aiden Townsend, the unofficial-yet-official-enough welcome wagon for Cannon Beach. You must be FBI?”</p>
<p>                “Aiden, this is Agent Mulder,” Whittaker waved his hand between the two of them, gesturing as they elevated onto the center steps at his front stoop. “Agent Mulder’s partner is over at the medical examiner’s office conducting her cursory exam and autopsy on your victim. You’ll meet her later.”</p>
<p>                “We’re a little rusty when it comes to those who aren’t one of us,” Aiden had a limp-wristed handshake with Mulder, his uninterested expression devolving before tilting his head toward the door. “I’m sure that the concept isn’t entirely foreign but we have to protect our own.”</p>
<p>                “Doesn’t seem like there’s not much devastation over the death of Isabelle Ballard,” Mulder circled the first button and shoved it down as he entered the premises, a cheeky smile on his lips as a scoff was audible from their host.</p>
<p>                “Isabelle was a very troubled girl,” Aiden snapped his fingers at two heads peeking around the corner at the end of the hall, the irritation passing over his visage for only a moment. “…We mourn our sisters but there’s so much more than sadness when it comes to a lost lamb.”</p>
<p>                “Now, Aiden, that’s the same phrasing you used when we came out here before,” Whittaker could see the wheels turning as Mulder’s eyes perused the walls, gravitating toward the abundance of religious paraphernalia and symbols that cluttered the space. “Are you making a bit of a judgment about the women that have met an untimely death along the coastline?”</p>
<p>                “I knew Lilly, Ella, and Isabelle fairly well, Agents,” Aiden adjusted the handle on the mini-blinds and angled them up until the visible light was aimed toward the ceiling in a thin sliver. “Disturbed might not have gone far enough for the afflictions that those lost sisters suffered from. It has all been a true tragedy.”</p>
<p>                “Just not enough of a tragedy to put a halt on Lilly’s cremation, right?” Hayes had been holding her tongue as she tore her eyes from staring at the bronze and pearl cross that had been affixed to the wall in the center. “No one wanted answers except for us outsiders, though, I’m sure.”</p>
<p>                “It’s not like that at all,” Aiden was barely looking at Hayes but his words were directed at her as he turned, distracted by something in his periphery. “Lilly was uniquely troubled in that she was promised to one of our own and broke her vow before she even had a chance to sanctify the bond.”</p>
<p>                Aiden’s language was starting to irk the trio. Mulder was already putting a fair spin on what could’ve made any number of women facing a turning point in life choose death over continuing within the confines of existence like this. It all reeked of brainwashing and control without a real way out. It smelled worse than death. The whirling breeze, hollow and cold, was wafting through a house with secrets hidden down the halls. Mulder could taste it on his tongue and his cohorts were picking up on his signals as Whittaker was the first to exhale audibly.</p>
<p>                “You mentioned that there were witnesses to Isabelle’s death?” Whittaker crossed his arms and heard the shuffling of feet from the opposite side of the house, the foreboding pitter-patter of not-so-little soles against the carpet. “We’d appreciate the opportunity to speak with them and see if there might’ve been a few details that the on-duty officers might’ve missed that night?”</p>
<p>                “I’d also like as much information about the layout of Cannon Beach as possible to get a feel for what it would’ve taken for all three victims to get from point A to point B on the night of their deaths,” Mulder lifted his head after spinning a small, iron cross with jagged edges on a table behind an easy chair. “It’ll help with the investigation just to assure us that no one…assisted in the endeavor.”</p>
<p>                “My siblings were there that night and I can make sure that both of them speak to you but I cannot guarantee that the other brothers and sisters will be allowed to do the same without a rational explanation. Anyone who isn’t one of us has to be cleared and given the proper amount of consideration before they are allowed to talk to minors,” Aidan’s focus was hardly on the agents in the room as he adjusted the drapery, straightening the heavy material out over the top of the blinds. “You can understand the protective nature of closely-knit families…I’m sure. As for a map, Agent Mulder, I’m sure I can get you a few of them that could be useful.”</p>
<p>                “You <em>do</em> realize that you’re not just dealing with common strangers from off the street, right, Mr. Townsend?” Mulder’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as the comment made him do a double-take and immediately reel from the condescending nature of it. “We are Federal Agents investigating the possibility of foul play in the deaths of more than one of your quaint, little town’s citizens. This isn’t to be taken lightly.”</p>
<p>                Aiden’s fabricated smirk was leaning toward that of a caricature as he clasped his hands together with a resounding clap, pointing his index fingers at the bay window. “We treat all outsiders with the same lens, Agent Mulder. We <em>must</em> protect our brothers and sisters. It isn’t a choice.”</p>
<p>                “It’s getting a little stuffy in here, gentlemen,” Hayes could hear the tension in Mulder’s voice and could read it all over Aiden’s face as she reached for the front door, pulling it open in a single motion to usher in the chill from outside. “Let’s take this conversation into the open air, shall we?”</p>
<p>                Her timing was perfect. Mulder wanted to shove Aiden Townsend’s face into the paint to pry information from him and it showed. Aiden remained behind them, blocking the view of his younger siblings as they continued to spy from the hallway in the dark. It was curious and unsettling in the same breath as Mulder managed to lock stares with the girl for just long enough to see fear residing behind those eyes. She was simply used to remaining compliant, he had figured.</p>
<p>                “You’ll find that I can be very cooperative when given the opportunity to do so,” Aiden shattered the remarkable silence with the twist of his key in the lock after pulling the door shut, the turn of his head methodical to make visual contact with Mulder. “You are wary of me—but make no mistake, I trust you considerably less.”</p>
<p>                “Well, I’m not the one being questioned about the mysterious deaths of women in my town,” Mulder quipped, twisting the proverbial knife a little more as he stepped off the porch and onto the sidewalk.</p>
<p>                “Touché, Agent Mulder, very touché,” Aiden slipped past the three of them and began to lead them around the corner toward another street with homes and stores on either side. “Let’s get you three in touch with some other people who can assist in the endeavors you seek, then?”</p>
<p>                “Other people?” Whittaker caught himself digging into a pocket for a notepad, the spritz of drizzle already forming a sparkle against clothing and hair as the wind picked up. “Are you referring to leadership or someone else?”</p>
<p>                “Everyone has a role here,” Aiden was periodically waving at prying eyes, the kind that only delivered a softened glance in his direction and a glare toward his company. “My fiancée, Kara, Matthew Dawson, and his wife, and Theo Clark…among others. Prominent members of our existence.”</p>
<p>                Names began to pattern as if they were ranked. Female names were redacted and lumped in with their partners while the males were given proper inclusion. Women were reduced. The lesser sex. Mulder was barely listening as his eyes scanned the doors and windows, at the faces that had so much more than curiosity written on them. Something was amiss and Mulder could see it even as the patterned lace did little to shroud each ghostly expression. They all shared a commonality, Mulder had realized, as they waited at a crosswalk, the softly rounded face of a child more visible in the upstairs window of an ocean greenhouse. They all lacked emotion, empathy, or a semblance of faith in humanity.</p>
<p>                It was becoming clear as crystal, with every passing visage, that something dark was brewing in Cannon Beach and it had birthed from the sand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>1:30 PM</p>
<p>Medical Examiner’s Office</p>
<p>Cannon Beach, Oregon</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                Scully continued the recording on her overhead recorder after popping her neck, carefully extending Isabelle’s arm to move toward the hidden spaces of her surface exam. “Continuation of external exam notation from Special Agent Dana Scully. The victim appears to have self-inflicted marking along the forearm just above the wrist consistent with a dull razor…”</p>
<p>                Scully squinted and placed her arm back along the steel table, the bluish pallor of her skin smoothed along every inch of her except for the deeper, purpled spaces where scars stood out. Scully noted them verbally and photographed each one, placing a small measuring placard near each mark for comparison. Isabelle, their victim, had been through something terrible before her death and Scully knew it wasn’t for a day or a week by the looks of her scars. She’d suffered a version of hell and she’d only seen half of her body, from the outside. She took a breath as she rolled her away from a centered position, propping her against her left side to continue the external.</p>
<p>                “Oh, my God,” Scully let the words leave her mouth as the jagged marks across Isabelle’s back covered the entire expanse of her dorsum to her coccyx. “…Further external examination shows extensive slash-like scarring in a haphazard pattern from shoulder to shoulder down to the top of the buttocks. They are all in varying degrees of healing from two months to more than ten years judging from the creasing and shading on the marks.”</p>
<p>                <em>What happened to you?</em></p>
<p>                Scully rocked her onto her belly, placing the block under her neck to keep her from crushing the sternum and collarbone as she reached for the camera. This poor woman had suffered and Scully could infer the level of pain that each mark inflicted on her as they layered over each other, one by one. This wasn’t something that could be blamed on a singular individual, Scully had determined. She’d been whipped by at least two people. There was a chance it was even more than that as the size and depth of one scar to the next varied—like the strength of the hand that caused it, was different.</p>
<p>                “Examiner’s note. It is unknown if the marks on Ms. Ballard’s body would have contributed to the desire to commit suicide or if the person, or persons, that inflicted those wounds would have led to her subsequent death, but it is worth keeping on record, for future reference,” Scully tapped the pause and exhaled slowly, mentally preparing herself for the internal as she caught a glimpse of something black hiding under the flow of hair along her right shoulder blade. “Something doesn’t feel right about this.”</p>
<p>                <em>Oh, really, now? What are you?</em></p>
<p>                Scully pushed her hair out of the way and snapped a few photos before really stepping back to take a look. At the top of her scarring, kissing the edge of purple, jagged flesh, a section of skin just over an inch by an inch stood out with faded, black ink. The spiral, curving in on itself over and over, had a central split of five separate forks that branched out before weaving back in. It reminded her of a variation on an infinity symbol mixed with some kind of Celtic knot but she’d never seen anything like it. It was crudely done with wisped ink along the outline. If Scully didn’t know any better, it would have looked like something she had received in a prison cell but was a notch above that.</p>
<p>                Scully pressed the resume record and tilted her head as she continued to stare at the mark, a questioning expression forming as she searched for the words. “Victim has a tattoo just to the left of the right shoulder blade—unknown origin and design. It could be Celtic or some kind of infinity symbol.”</p>
<p>                <em>You’re giving me more questions than answers.</em></p>
<p>                Scully moved her gloved index over the ink and tried to picture the unraveling scenarios as Mulder would. They were hitting her like tiny flashes that did nothing but irritate as she carefully moved her back to a face-up vantage before sliding the instrument table closer. She already knew what she was about to find but she had to confirm it as she reached for the bone saw. The external exam was making Scully nearly incapable of fully concentrating as she glanced at Isabelle’s upturned chin, lingering on the contorted bruising of her neck where her vertebrae snapped from the fall. The impact didn’t kill her but the slow bleed certainly had.</p>
<p>                “Note on condition of the corpse. Mild abdominal distention suggests internal swelling of some kind. The angle of swelling is below the stomach, but above the pelvic curve,” Scully dotted her gloved index and middle finger along the space just below Isabelle’s belly button in a semi-circular pattern, the concentration of the elevation just to the left of center. “Will know more once I conduct a Y incision but the swelling is not symmetrical.”</p>
<p>                Scully pushed pause and exhaled slowly, continuing with the autopsy as clinically as she could. She carefully weighed and measured each organ, noting size and color to be cataloged, with nothing outstanding capturing her attention at first glance. It couldn’t have been a more standard endeavor until she got to the point of investigating the contents of Isabelle’s stomach. The blade sliced and a puff of grayed dust went into the air in a small, rounded plume. Scully lifted her face shield and took a step back as the material collected and settled against the puckered skin and entrails, contaminating more than she had bargained for.</p>
<p>                “Shit,” Scully didn’t care that she was still recording as she pilfered through one of the kits to find collection swabs and baggies, her eyes glancing back at the lightly dusted opened cavity. “Stomach contents have not been fully examined. A dust-like substance was released upon incision. I will take swabs for immediate testing. Will need to consult prior notations on the previous two victims to see if they had anything similar pop up on their internal.”</p>
<p>                It could’ve been a break in the case or another layer of film to cake up their growing list of inconclusive information. Scully took multiple swabs, coated them evenly, and sealed them in marked transport vials before folding the label over on the plastic. She was already mentally reeling as the substance became stickier with every swipe of the cotton-tipped testers, almost as though she had activated viscosity with the introduction of excess oxygen and friction. The material looked organic but not at all belonging to the inside of a cadaver. She must have ingested or inhaled it.</p>
<p>                There wouldn’t have been much sense for any other method of consumption.</p>
<p>                “Full panel prepped for analysis,” Scully pressed the pause on her recording device and took a deep breath as her eyes found the clock in the corner.</p>
<p>                It was going to be a long afternoon. Almost two hours had elapsed and Scully was unraveling a mystery as the refrigeration system stuttered and hummed in the background. A forlorn sigh left her lips as she reached for a fresh scalpel and pressed the resume button on the recorder. Her eyes lingered over Isabelle’s, as the lifeless irises were just visible through the thinnest gap between her lids, shimmering like dark stones behind a colorless barrier. Isabelle’s story was becoming more apparent as the lines on her skin painted a picture and the scalpel perched along the perforated dot where Scully had pressed medical-grade swabs.</p>
<p>                Her life had been made of more than misery.</p>
<p>               </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>4:45 PM</p>
<p>The Waves at Cannon Beach</p>
<p>188 W 2<sup>nd</sup> Street, Cannon Beach, Oregon</p>
<p>               </p>
<p>                Scully swatted her hair out of her face as she pushed the door shut and followed Mulder to the back of the car, holding her coat closed as a gust of wind nipped at her skin. “The Portland Bureau is putting a rush on the swabs I sent. I had a moment of wondering whether or not I’d be able to finish the autopsy after what I found inside of her stomach.”</p>
<p>                “Was there an indication of what you found or was it something that  you have to wait for the results to know anything more about?” Mulder went to pull their suitcases from the trunk, furrowing his brows at her while Hayes and Whittaker continued to have a cordial discussion with Hutchens.</p>
<p>                “The scalpel barely made the first incision point and released what I could only describe as a dust cloud of film from the inside of the stomach itself,” Scully could see the surf from the parking area as the billowing, white caps crashed against the shoreline in a series of uneven motions. “I couldn’t tell what it was. Completely anomalous.”</p>
<p>                “Care to wager a guess about what it could be?” Mulder pulled the trunk down, giving it a firm drop to close it as he adjusted his hand around the handle of his luggage.</p>
<p>                “Beyond an organic substance? I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” Scully followed Mulder down the sidewalk toward Hayes, Whittaker, and Hutchens as he seemed to be showing them something on a map. “It was odd, though, that the more air exposed to it along with the swabbing motion…it started to become tacky.”</p>
<p>                “That is a little unique,” Mulder hadn’t been entirely receptive to his partner’s body language in days but he couldn’t help but notice that she was a little pale today and it had only increased since their arrival. “Anything else worth noting?”</p>
<p>                “I don’t know if it’s a noteworthy addition but, I discovered signs of a very recent miscarriage. I sent for lab results for confirmation but her uterus had developed a prominent swelling--and her pelvic alignment had already begun adjusting for a growing fetus,” Scully’s phrasing captured Hutchens’s attention as his head snapped in her direction. “I’d guess that the miscarriage happened roughly two weeks ago.”</p>
<p>                “She was pregnant?” Hutchens held a hand up and nearly took a tumble into the nearby bushes as he struggled with his balance.</p>
<p>                “I won’t know for sure until the lab gets back to me but I’d say she was at least three, possibly four, months along judging by the physical indicators,” Scully furrowed her eyebrows at his peculiar behavior and felt a chill nibble at the back of her neck.</p>
<p>                Hutchens shook his head, the disbelief radiating off of him as he stepped down from the sidewalk, aiming his hip toward his SUV at the other end of the parking spaces. “I need to go add that information to the file. I’ll have someone bring you more information on the previous victims…and we’ll get this case up and running a little better.”</p>
<p>                He didn’t stay to hear anything further, opting to make a hasty exit while the four agents were left to wonder what had exactly happened. They hadn’t been in town for a full twelve hours and it was becoming more intriguing than they’d anticipated as daylight was winding down. Whittaker lingered at the car, pulling his coat from the front seat while Mulder replayed the moment over in his head. None of it really made a lot of sense. It was another puzzle piece with jagged edges that didn’t seem to belong.</p>
<p>                “Did that seem weird to anyone else?” Hayes had a high-pitched, awkward laugh as they continued up the sidewalk toward the front entrance to the hotel.</p>
<p>                “Small towns,” Scully tasted the salt on her tongue as she wet her lips and followed Hayes into the lobby, the scent of eucalyptus and citrus assaulting her nostrils as she passed the threshold. “It is as though it breeds it.”</p>
<p>                “You must be the FBI,” the woman behind the counter made a passable greeting, her frosted locks bouncing as she rose from a seated position. “I’m Kara, owner and manager of The Waves. I have two rooms set up and ready to go for you.”</p>
<p>                “Wait, you only have two?” Mulder could feel the awkward stare from Scully as the reality set in of a deficiency in the sleeping arrangements. “There must’ve been a mistake.”</p>
<p>                “The Portland Bureau only made arrangements for two rooms,” Kara’s overdone makeup barely hinted at a moment of panic as she clicked away at the keys, scrambling to see if there was anything to remedy the situation. “I don’t have any additional rooms available and most of the other motels are under the same situation with a convention going on in a neighboring town.”</p>
<p>                “Do the rooms at least have two beds?” Scully chewed on the inside of her cheek as she glanced at the unbothered body language of Hayes and Whittaker, irritated that they seemed perfectly content to share.</p>
<p>                Kara smiled, her perfectly straight teeth shimmering in the light as she hit a few more keys with a little extra panache. “Both rooms are King Suites with a king-size bed, a couch, and a Murphy bed.”</p>
<p>                “Oh, Scully, a Murphy bed, the room really <em>does</em> have two beds,” Mulder knew it would add to Scully’s lack of patience as he watched her eyes close from a sigh that could have set off the Richter scale. “That solves everything.”</p>
<p>                “I can try to re-run a search through neighboring hotels and resorts but it wouldn’t guarantee that I’ll find an open room with two beds or two with singles,” Kara’s façade slowly crumbled and the corners of her mouth went stagnant as they rested, her laugh lines all but gone as the saccharin timbre of her voice carried throughout the lobby. “The suite is sizable and has a spa as well. Ocean views.”</p>
<p>                Scully’s shoulders sank as the exhaustion worked its way through her bones, the instant craving of a shower screaming from her joints as she nodded gently. “The room will be fine.”</p>
<p>                “Excellent,” Kara’s bright grin returned as she gathered their identification off of the high counter, arranging them in her hand by room. “Let me go make copies of these and get room keys for both rooms.”</p>
<p>                Amid the melee, confusion, and tension, no one had noticed a swaying heel in a high backed lounge chair next to a lit fireplace. The crackle of dry logs and the flicker of flames against the backdrop of a softly lit lounge made it easier to remain gently concealed. The red pump with jeweled accents swirled the air as a manicured nail gathered along the armrest to pull a steaming cup of tea closer. A concentrative hum left her lips as she took a sip and angled her chin to the right, peering at the guest from the FBI with a little more interest than she had when they’d arrived. Long, sweeping locks shrouded just enough of her visage as she turned that only a singular, mahogany iris with flecks of copper and coffee around the pupil was visible beneath long, false lashes.</p>
<p>                The agents may have been unaware but they were being deliberately watched and she was intently listening to every word and watching every little flinch in their dynamics.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Quotes by:<br/>John Deacon<br/>Atticus</p>
<p>Continuing this theme of...rain...and wind...and...rain...</p>
<p>Oh, and WIND.</p>
<p>Thank you to Monika, who beta'd this BEASTY.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Numb</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A partnership suffers another shift in their dynamic while a town full of people do their best to continue hiding behind a shroud of secrecy.</p>
<p>“She wasn’t sad anymore, she was numb, and she knew, somehow, numb was worse.” - Atticus</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning: Open discussion about suicide, varying degrees of torture, and cult behavior is mentioned in this fic. None of it is intended to harm or, otherwise, trigger the reader.</p>
<p>This is a serious issue, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is available to help. The lifeline provides 24/7, free and confidential support for people in distress, prevention and crisis resources for you or your loved ones, and best practices for professionals. Please, call 1-800-273-8255. Don’t stay silent. This might be “just a fic” but it holds real issues, with real consequences. Don’t suffer alone.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Now I’ve got that feeling once again</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I can’t explain you would not understand</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>This is not how I am</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I have become comfortably numb</em>
</p>
<p>-David Jon Gilmour &amp; Roger Waters</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                It couldn’t have taken more than fifteen minutes to get the keys and make the ascent to the room but every step felt like an eternity as the electronic release on the door sent a shudder of relief through Scully’s body. Autopsies were never such an arduous task before joining the FBI but each one since then seemed to add a different layer of complexity that left her sore to the tips of her toes. It made it that much more difficult with unanswered questions weighing on her and the mountain of unknowns that were piling up as a result. At least, there was solace in the waiting promise of a hot shower, a fresh pair of clothes, and the freedom of taking off her shoes for a little while. Scully had that much to look forward to.</p>
<p>                “I was thinking about getting in a quick interview with at least a few of the teenagers that were on the beach partying when Isabelle tumbled off the cliff before it’s dark if you’re interested in joining in,” Mulder wasn’t asking but he was trying to make it seem as though he was as he watched her slide out of her shoes before the door even closed.</p>
<p>                “I am in desperate need of a shower, Mulder,” Scully bit down on her lip and followed him with her eyes as he dropped his bags on the floor next to the sofa. “If you give me enough time to—”</p>
<p>                “We’re running out of daylight as is, Scully,” Mulder cut her off before she could finish that comment as he shoved open the curtains and took a glance at the spectacular view they’d been promised. “Wow, Kara wasn’t lying about being able to see the ocean from the room.”</p>
<p>                “You weren’t really asking me to go, were you?” Scully was already a little fed up as she crossed the room, disappearing into the partitioned off space where the massive, unnecessary bed resided, carrying her bags to get fresh clothes out. “You’re not exactly making this easy for either of us, you know that?”</p>
<p>                Mulder wasn’t in the mood to fight with her but the buttons had been pushed as he followed her; the diatribe effortless as his nostrils flared. “Speaking of not making this easy, Scully, you have already hidden in the autopsy bay for most of the day and now you’re showering when you could go out into the field to help. I don’t know what’s wrong with you and it isn’t the time nor the place for me to find out. I don’t know about you but I’m here to solve a case—arguing with you over triviality is the last thing on my mind.”</p>
<p>                Scully spun around and narrowed her stare, as her knees begged to give. “I have the smell of formaldehyde rooted in my nostrils. It isn’t about could…I feel death clinging to me more than life.”</p>
<p>                Guilt.</p>
<p>                Scully knew how to inflict a heavy dose of it and Mulder didn’t want to feel the effects of those words as he sidestepped being the path of those eyes while he moved toward the couch again. It might not have looked like it, but the last thing on Mulder’s mind was mudslinging with Scully. Despite the appearances, he’d tucked away the last of his feelings and kept it guarded as the last person he trusted was slipping through his fingers. It simply added to the mess that lay before them as they both struggled to wrap their minds around the extra indeterminates as they piled on the proverbial stack. Neither of them needed it and yet, it kept them from focusing on the growing rift they couldn’t seem to shake.</p>
<p>                Mulder waited until he could hear the water running in the bathroom, unaware of how far he had pushed her as soft, muttered curse words lingered before the silence. “Look, Scully, I’ll go get some of this prelim out of the way and when I’m inevitably kicked out…we’ll go grab a bite to eat. Does that sound alright?”</p>
<p>                Scully wanted to appreciate it but the words still left a sour note on her heart as she nodded gently, the stray tears already sliding down her cheeks, an arm full of clothes, and a hand on the door handle. “If something comes up that you need me for, just call. It won’t take long to shower and get to wherever you are.”</p>
<p>                The setting sun through the open curtains was almost neon on her skin as her profile was illuminated in shades of red and orange, making her eyes stand out a little more. Mulder exhaled slowly and watched her tilt her chin away from the clashing sunset and the bright, stark light emanating from the bathroom cast down from the ceiling. Something was striking about her face, though, even as her expression seemed to do battle with her feelings—passing from the hurt to that nearly exhausted place she hated to be. Mulder knew he should’ve said something but, as always, he kept it carefully guarded as he went for the door to the hallway. They were both good at shoving things underneath the rug.</p>
<p>                “I’ll be back,” Mulder waited for the nod and made his exit, leaving her to her own devices in an unnecessarily large hotel suite.</p>
<p>                Scully pulled the door to the bathroom closed and muttered as the steam began to rise. “As always, I’ll be here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>5:45 PM</p>
<p>Cannon Beach Police Department</p>
<p>148 E Gower Ave, Cannon Beach, Oregon</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                “There is an abundance of driftwood in this town,” Mulder was making an observation but the comment was oozing with sarcasm as the modestly designed building stood out as they approached. “Is it that much of a design element?”</p>
<p>                “Durable, resilient, beautiful as it ages,” Aiden was leading the charge as his thin, plain tie blew back in the breeze as they approached the front door. “Much easier to maintain than bright, fancy colors.”</p>
<p>                Mulder would have rather had Scully go with him to conduct interviews but Whittaker had been more than capable of doing so, leaving Hayes behind to get her shower in. Perhaps it would benefit them to have an abundance of masculine energy in the room to balance things out even though Aiden seemed to be more than content to dominate the situation. He oozed confidence and bled a little too much misogynistic energy, Mulder had determined. It was written all over his face and seemed to transfer to how he carried himself as he made it painfully aware that he was the leader. He was, at the very least, someone’s judge, jury, and executioner. He might’ve even likened himself akin to a god.</p>
<p>                He just wasn’t Whittaker or Mulder’s.</p>
<p>                “Did you have any luck with those maps for us, Aiden?” Whittaker’s question reeked of suspicion of their host’s fleeting patience and focus as he gave a quick nudge to Mulder. “We have a few older maps and could use the new ones.”</p>
<p>                <em>Oh, you are going to piss him off.</em></p>
<p>                Mulder was beginning to enjoy Whittaker’s brazen, more in-your-face attitude as he cracked a smile and nodded gently before passing through the doorway. “It would be helpful for the directionally challenged of us. I have to drive around for weeks before I know where I’m going…and I know you don’t want me sniffing around for weeks.”</p>
<p>                “I’m having my fiancée get those, actually,” Aiden’s well-constructed grin was alarming as they came to the counter, attracting the attention of Officer Crouch and Hutchens. “Henry Lewis—you have a room set up for these gentlemen to conduct their interview?”</p>
<p>                “Mack, Felecia, Susie, and Iris are all set up in different rooms,” Hutchens didn’t seem to appreciate the note of familiarity between them as he picked up a clipboard, scanning them as though he’d hoped to talk to someone not among them. “The twins insisted on sitting together so you can start with them.”</p>
<p>                “Can’t seem to separate them,” Aiden laughed, almost alarmed by the notion as he made direct eye contact with Mulder. “Mack and Felecia are my younger siblings. They may be twins but they couldn’t be more opposite. Mack is the epitome of a gentleman and Felecia is willful, spiteful, and loves to tell tall tales.”</p>
<p>                The pattern was forming. Aiden had an incredible knack for painting a picture of a Medusa-like feminist ideal with the perfection of the Adonis in the male. Mulder couldn’t tell if he devalued women or if they were simply viewed as a commodity by the entire town. He couldn’t help but think back to Scully’s observation at the coroner’s office when they’d said Kimberly’s name out loud and went on comparing the situations in his head. There was a distinct impression that every female they encountered would be very demure, incapable of lifting their chins and bound to the male influences in their lives to an inescapable level.</p>
<p>                Mulder was starting to understand what would cause a lonely woman to become melancholy enough to make the choice—if she had.</p>
<p>                “Susie and Iris have parental supervision, I’m assuming?” Mulder elevated a brow as the awkward, uncomfortable stare from Officer Hutchens began to burn through him. “They are the only witnesses to a portion of the events that night and getting their side of the story is of the utmost importance.”</p>
<p>                Hutchens stepped in, talking before Aiden had a chance to open his mouth as a fire burned behind his eyes. “Susie Clark’s father, Theo is with her in an interview room, and Iris is with her Uncle Matthew in another. I set them up separately.”</p>
<p>                “Can’t say Clark or Dawson are going to be all that helpful, though,” Crouch gestured down a hallway, trying to get everyone out of the lobby and away from the immediate vicinity of the front door as the sun began to dip behind the horizon. “Both girls were pretty trashed when we found them and spent two, solid hours doing nothing but giggling until they realized we were dealing with a dead body. They didn’t seem to know what was going on.”</p>
<p>                “You’d be surprised what the drunk can witness and recall,” Whittaker was mostly making the comment to test the intestinal fortitude of Aiden, who seemed to flinch as the words came out. “I’ve had multiple witnesses who were borderline alcohol poisoned that were able to direct an investigation toward a suspect.”</p>
<p>                “Nothing is out of the realm of possibility,” Mulder reinforced the ideal and watched as Aiden squirmed.</p>
<p>                “I’ll be in with my siblings, then,” Aiden flashed a pearly smile before returning his face to a stone-cold, emotionless visage as his tone changed. “Don’t make me keep my siblings here for long, Agents.”</p>
<p>                “Aiden, your siblings are in the first interview room, why don’t you go join them?” Hutchens rolled his eyes and glanced over at Mulder. “I need your signature on a couple of documents.”</p>
<p>                “I’ll go get started with Susie Clark and you can get going with Aiden’s siblings?” Whittaker was looking at Mulder, concentrating on getting things accomplished in an orderly fashion.</p>
<p>                “Yeah, I’ll be headed toward that way in a second,” Mulder waited until everyone was out of sight to continue to mutter. “Between the machine of a man in Aiden and not having my partner here, I’m about done with this fucking town.”</p>
<p>                “Get used to it, Agent Mulder,” Hutchens knew that Mulder had momentarily forgotten about him but it didn’t matter as he came around from behind a counter and leaned against the divider.</p>
<p>                “Officer, sorry, I didn’t really intend on you hearing that or even saying that out loud,” Mulder rubbed the bridge of his nose and let out a painful sigh as he reached for a pen from the counter. “You said you had something for me to sign?” </p>
<p>                “I wanted to confront you about something and I needed to know if it was true what your partner said about Isabelle,” Hutchens had been squirrelly since their arrival but he was at an entirely different level as he chewed on his bottom lip. “Had she truly been pregnant?”</p>
<p>                Mulder knew that death tended to bring out the oddest of curiosity but Hutchens was vested as he seemed to be sweating bullets before a word could even be uttered. “I know that Agent Scully mentioned finding significant indicators of that, yes. May I ask why you’re so interested in that detail, Officer?”</p>
<p>                Hutchens scrambled for the words, sadness colliding with an ample amount of anger as he shook his head. “I was close to her family. The devastation just doesn’t end, does it, Agent Mulder?”</p>
<p>                “Solving this case might make some of that suffering a lot less intense,” Mulder shrugged his shoulders and looked beyond Hutchens’s shoulder at the first interview room as Aiden paced the floor. “If you’ll excuse me…”</p>
<p>                Aiden spun around as Mulder opened the door, his pleasant façade all but gone as he thumped his chest in an attempt to be intimidating. “I thought I said not to make me or my siblings wait, Agent Mulder?”</p>
<p>                “You did, but I don’t have to oblige you,” Mulder pushed the door closed and straightened his tie as he moved past the frustrated, bruised ego before him, taking a seat across the table from the twins. “You two must be Mack and Felecia. I’m Agent Mulder—you don’t have anything to worry about. I just have some questions to ask about what happened at the bonfire the other night, okay?”</p>
<p>                Felecia’s lips were firmly closed and her eyes were on her eldest brother, the fear on her face as she waited for an affirmation from him. He didn’t flinch. He looked only at Mack and nodded. Felecia stared at the table and swallowed her words as Mack’s spine straightened out, the confidence blooming. Mulder wanted to hear from both of them but he’d settle for one if need be until he could push the right combination of buttons to tip the scales. It was bound to happen, he noted mentally, as he watched Aiden sink into the chair nearest to Felecia.</p>
<p>                The action was possessive and left a sour taste in Mulder’s mouth.</p>
<p>                “I didn’t really see a lot of anything that night, Agent Mulder,” Mack had rehearsed that comment so well as he earned a wide smile from Aiden and a slow nod of approval. “I heard a scream and found Isabelle in the sand.”</p>
<p>                “You found Isabelle?” Mulder watched as Felecia did a double-take in her brother’s direction, the shock clear as she bit down on her lip. “Are you certain about that?”</p>
<p>                “Yes, I’m sure,” Mack was unreasonably defensive and Mulder knew he was lying as his shrinking violet of a sister continued to sink further in her chair. “Fel could barely walk that night, she was so drunk…she wouldn’t have known a dead body from a pile of rocks.”</p>
<p>                That’s where it became painfully obvious that it was discussed, predisposed, and calculated that Felecia wasn’t going to be allowed to speak as she hugged herself and dropped another couple of inches in the seat. She was miserable as the implication did nothing but make her look like an incapable lush—when they all knew it was the opposite. Mulder managed to meet a forlorn glance with the broken teenager as she began to grind her teeth behind pursed lips. She blinked and a stray tear betrayed her. Mulder did his best not to acknowledge it as her index quickly flicked it away.</p>
<p>                Mulder didn’t want to bother with his notes but the assumption was on a basis of truth as he jotted them down and gave a disingenuous nod. “When you found her, was there anything that seemed out of place?”</p>
<p>                “No, Sir,” Mack was flat, cold even, as he barely flinched over a recollection of Isabelle’s corpse that didn’t belong to him. “She jumped, didn’t she? She was all twisted at the bottom and didn’t move.”</p>
<p>                “That has yet to be determined, which is why I’m here, Mack,” Mulder finally took a risk as he tilted his head to look at Felecia directly. “What happened that night, Felecia?”</p>
<p>                “Alright, Agent Mulder, I’ve been patient enough with you but this conversation is over,” Aiden grasped Felecia by the wrist, pulling her from her chair before she could even open her mouth, startling her completely. “Maybe you’ll think twice about taking too long to ask your questions.”</p>
<p>                There was an air of deception in the way Aiden took control of his younger sibling, ushering her out of the room before Mack. It gave Mulder an odd sensation as he watched the girl hang her head as she waited for Aiden and Mack to walk ahead of her, staying a half pace behind them, withdrawn as ever. Mulder followed them into the lobby and watched as a similar dynamic unfolded as Susie and Iris followed their adult supervisors out of the building. Shoulders down, chins tucked, and eyes aimed toward the ground instead of straight ahead. There was a moment of hesitation as Mack stopped to tie his shoe, giving a second’s opportunity for Felecia to turn toward the window to make the briefest of eye contact with Mulder as he remained inside.</p>
<p>                Mulder had never seen anything so depressing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>8:15 PM</p>
<p>Bill’s Tavern &amp; Brew House</p>
<p>188 North Hemlock Street</p>
<p>Cannon Beach, OR</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                “Can I get you anything else?” Their waitress hadn’t been purposely interrupting the evening as the scattered chatter went on in the restaurant and bar near their booth, the ambiance softer than anything going on beyond the doors.</p>
<p>                “Do you two want another beer?” Whittaker had been generously making sure that Mulder and Scully weren’t wanting anything as he noticed their ailing drinks, aiming his index at both of their pilsners. “Don’t be shy.”</p>
<p>                “Another drink would be great,” Mulder nodded and felt some of the aches disappearing as he took another sip, indulging in a stolen glance at his partner beside him. “How bout you, Scully?”</p>
<p>                “Why not?” Scully shrugged her shoulders and smiled at the waitress before giving the same appreciative expression toward Whittaker and Hayes after the twenty-something went off to get their drinks. “You don’t need to spoil us, though.”</p>
<p>                “Thank the Portland Bureau,” Hayes winked and pecked at the appetizer in front of them, snagging a mozzarella stick from the considerable pile of food that lay before them. “They didn’t want the DC office thinking they were superior…it’s a pissing contest.”</p>
<p>                “How very high school and yet, so very bureaucratic,” Mulder had a grin behind his fork, a flaky piece of fried fish perched just ready to be consumed as he glanced out at the glowing, night sky as the rain fell.</p>
<p>                “So, I was curious about the impression you got out of your interview with Aiden and his siblings earlier,” Whittaker was drinking something a little harder than beer as the ice swirled in the amber liquid and his grimace took over after a considerable sip. “I could barely get three, solid questions out before all hell broke loose and it seemed like you had a similar situation unfold with your interaction with Aiden’s siblings.”</p>
<p>                “Well, to be frank, Aiden didn’t even let the sister speak,” Mulder covered his mouth as he chewed the breaded halibut, savoring it as best as he could despite the hunger pangs that rattled through his belly. “Aiden and Mack dominated the conversation to the point that I was piecing together that this is common between them.”</p>
<p>                “You know, that would fit the narrative, though,” Hayes had been quietly observing people in the downtime and she kept her voice low even in mixed company of tourists in the establishment as the music played overhead. “While you two conducted interviews, Agent Scully and I had tea downstairs and we couldn’t help but notice the dynamic of young women versus any males. They were withdrawn, submissive even.”</p>
<p>                “It felt very forced,” Scully nodded as she nibbled on a fry, concentrating on the recollection of body language she’d absorbed since they’d arrived. “They don’t answer to names. They answer to words like <em>sister</em> and <em>girl</em>. It comes off very cult-like and that doesn’t seem like something that would breed here.”</p>
<p>                “I wanted to talk to Felecia,” Mulder pushed his side salad around with the fork and speared a piece of lettuce, contemplating the case more thoroughly. “I know she was the one that discovered the body even though Mack tried to say he did. The kid is a terrible liar.”</p>
<p>                “They told the local PD that Felecia found the body first,” Scully elevated a brow and drank the final sip of her beer. “Why twist that detail now?”</p>
<p>                “To keep her hidden from interacting with all of us,” Whittaker gave a soft nudge to Hayes underneath the table while sampling the clams. “Outsiders are bad, <em>doncha know</em>.”</p>
<p>                The smiling face of their waitress softened the brand of conversation as she lined up the refills and stood up straight while moving her eyes between each of them. “Alright, there’s those refills you were needing—can I do anything else in the meantime?”</p>
<p>                “I think we’re all good here,” Mulder waited till she was out of sight to slide out of the booth and set his napkin on the table next to his plate. “Before I go drinking any more of that beer, I’ll be right back.”</p>
<p>                “Shit, good idea, Mulder,” Whittaker squeezed Hayes’s thigh and winked as his backside squeaked across the wooden surface. “Ladies.”</p>
<p>                “Have fun on your bathroom date,” Hayes wiggled her eyebrows from behind her glass of wine and earned a middle finger from her partner as both of them disappeared down the hall toward the restroom sign. “You’re quiet, Agent Scully.”</p>
<p>                “Oh, sorry, I must be tired,” Scully straightened her spine and sipped her beer as Hayes stared at her like Missy once had, silently cajoling her into some sort of confessional.</p>
<p>                “You’re really going to make me ask you about it, aren’t you?” Hayes scoffed and set her glass on the table, shaking her head gently as her timbre climbed just a smidge. “We’re all adults here. Are you an Agent Mulder—”</p>
<p>                “No,” Scully couldn’t cut her off fast enough as the beer attempted to make a hasty escape through her nose as she took another swallow. “Why? Are you and Whittaker?”</p>
<p>                Hayes snorted and pulled a chain free from underneath her top button, a small bauble dangling at the end with a generous stone in the center of the loop. “Well, I’d hope that I was engaging in some healthy extra-curricular activity with my fiancé.”</p>
<p>                Scully inhaled sharply as she fixated on the almost gaudy engagement ringing around Hayes’s neck, reminding her that life hadn’t been nearly as kind as she sought comfort in a hefty drink of beer. “Wow—That’s incredible. How long have you been together?”</p>
<p>                “Four and a half years,” Hayes didn’t want to make her uncomfortable but the vibe had already ventured there as Scully shuffled her fork through the middle of her salad. “I don’t think anyone would ever expect to find their other half on the job but the hours spent with each other far outnumbered anything else. I couldn’t imagine myself with anyone else.”</p>
<p>                Scully could hear the bitterness working its way up as she nodded to buy some time and piece a sentence together that didn’t sound contrived. “I can imagine. I wouldn’t have made the leap since you don’t wear your engagement ring.”</p>
<p>                “I get it caught on everything,” Hayes laughed and wrinkled her nose as she continued to describe the depths of her clumsiness. “I jammed my finger four times before Tommy decided that I should just wear it around my neck until the band goes on. It’s a conversation starter.”</p>
<p>                “That it is,” Scully hoped that Mulder and Whittaker were on their way back to put an end to one of the more awkward conversations she’d fallen into. “There’s no arguing with that assessment.”</p>
<p>                “Are you two getting along out here?” Whittaker’s timing was perfect as his boisterous voice carried from the entrance to the hall. “I heard laughter from the door.”</p>
<p>                “We’re great,” Hayes winked at Scully and quietly tucked the necklace back into place. “Just discussing this dinner…Not wasting opportunities.”</p>
<p>                The stretching of the truth spared Scully’s feelings as Mulder and Whittaker slid back into the booth, softening the agitation as the feminine giggling was muted by sips of alcohol. Scully shook her head and hid a smile at the rim of her pilsner as her partner’s gaze finally landed on her until an intense shade of pink graced her cheeks. It might’ve been enough for that moment, at least, to put a dent in their ongoing strain as they sat across from the definition of overt love. Mulder glanced across the table just in time to witness Whittaker delivering a soft kiss to the top of Hayes’s hand then give it a loving squeeze as they continued their meal.</p>
<p>                Mulder had far too many questions and he had a sneaking suspicion that Scully had a few of the answers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>10:15 PM</p>
<p>N Hemlock Street</p>
<p>Cannon Beach, Oregon</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                The needle clicked into place on the record player and the velvety melody filled the room as the moonlight streamed through the open drapes. The comb glided through Courtney’s hair, illuminating the flecks of gold and mahogany as her long locks cascaded down her shoulders. She hummed along to the music and dotted the antique perfume applicator across her collarbone, up to her ear, and placed a solitary droplet on her wrists. A sigh exited her lungs and her fingers reached for the lipstick as she took a long look at herself in the mirror.</p>
<p>                It was like looking at a ghost.</p>
<p>
  <em>How can it feel, this wrong</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>From this moment</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>How can it feel, this wrong</em>
</p>
<p>                The streaks of tears, a vacant expression, and more makeup than she’d ever dreamed of wearing for no reason at all as she glided on the deep, vibrant red lip color. Her skin glowed in the light of the moon and the breeze blew the wispy tendrils away from her silhouette, exposing the thin straps of her nightgown and nearly bare shoulders. The chill in the air seeped beneath her skin; reduced her to a hollow vessel with a beating heart. She didn’t recognize herself anymore. No one would have known it was her as she played with the wavy ends of her hair.</p>
<p>
  <em>I got nobody on my side</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And surely that ain’t right</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And surely that ain’t right</em>
</p>
<p>                Courtney left the lights on, left the record playing, and stepped into the night air as the wind kissed her skin. She glanced down at the black beaded rosary as it tapped against her stomach, rubbing the same spot with a distant, melancholy affection that ended as soon as it began with the squeak of the storm door. The door remained open and every drape had been pulled open, left hanging as though she were still present. Her eyes lingered on the waiting, warm glow of her modest, yet comfortable home before her feet moved as though they’d made this journey a thousand times. She passed homes, with their lights on and curtains open, the watchful eyes of women pressed against each pane with lingering tears. They didn’t call out to her. No one so much as intervened as each window went dark.</p>
<p>                All except one.</p>
<p>                Felecia cradled a candle in the attic window, her fingers pressed against the glass as the condensation gathered from her frantic breaths. She wept. Her tears streaked down her cheeks as she watched Courtney disappear onto the sand and grass trails, knowing exactly where they led. This was not a life that anyone would ever choose for their daughters and yet, it had been thrust upon her. She held the candle, balancing it with her left hand, and pushed a breath out onto the window that left a wide, white section of fog. She etched the words ‘help me’ across the single pane of glass, visible from the outside, and snuffed out the candle with a single blow.</p>
<p>                “What are you doing up here?” Mack’s voice bellowed from the ladder, nearly scaring her out of her skin. “Aiden is going to lose it if he finds you up here again.”</p>
<p>                “She’s gone,” Felecia was still wiping her tears as she crawled across the beams and swung her legs down, nearly kicking him. “She’s really gone.”</p>
<p>                “Who?” Mack helped her down and instinctively wiped one of her stray tears.</p>
<p>                “Does it matter anymore?” Felecia’s feet touched the floor, her voice filled with confusion and sadness.</p>
<p>
  <em>Never found our way</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Regardless of what they say</em>
</p>
<p>                As the clouds wrapped the moon in a shroud and the seas began to reach toward the heavens, Courtney’s toes touched the edge of the bluffs. The wind blew, whipping her hair in every direction, and her fingers stretched across her abdomen again. Like a swinging branch, she swayed against it and sank into the sand. The air left her lungs and the horizon came into focus for the briefest of seconds as the regret burned through her memories. Courtney clutched the rosary a little tighter, inhaled the salty air, and exhaled the last semblance of control. She had nothing left to feel or anything left to fight for. Nothing left to breathe for.</p>
<p>                Until the view from below was staring back at her.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Quotes by:<br/>Atticus<br/>David Jon Gilmour &amp; Roger Waters</p>
<p>Song Mentioned:<br/>Roads by Portishead</p>
<p>I mean...surely, that ain't right...</p>
<p>Thank you ever so much for the beta work, Monika. I know that this one was very intense but it's worth it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Seeds of Doubt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sunrise brings another death and the unknown becomes real as suicide slides off the table, into the mist. Mulder and Scully begin to put the pieces together of a deeper, darker secret in a sleepy, little town with more to hide than murder.</p>
<p>“Tears are what we pay for the joy we had.” – EM.X.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Referred directly to Bible verse – Matthew 7:15-20</p>
<p>Warning: Open discussion about suicide, varying degrees of torture, and cult behavior is mentioned in this fic. None of it is intended to harm or, otherwise, trigger the reader.</p>
<p>This is a serious issue, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is available to help. The lifeline provides 24/7, free and confidential support for people in distress, prevention and crisis resources for you or your loved ones, and best practices for professionals. Please, call 1-800-273-8255. Don’t stay silent. This might be “just a fic” but it holds real issues, with real consequences. Don’t suffer alone.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>I let her go because I knew she could do better.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And now I wonder if I should’ve just been better.</em>
</p>
<p>-Atticus</p>
<p> </p>
<p>4:45 AM, February 14<sup>th</sup> 1999</p>
<p>Mulder and Scully’s Suite</p>
<p>The Waves at Cannon Beach</p>
<p>188 W 2<sup>nd</sup> Street, Cannon Beach, Oregon</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                “You awake?” Scully stared at the ceiling, the light already filtering in through the gaps in the drapes as the aftertaste of a regretful shot of tequila lingered on her tongue. “Mulder?”</p>
<p>                The groan and a squeak of a spring muddled carefully together as Mulder rolled onto his side, the wall between them thin yet enormous. “Yeah, sadly…”</p>
<p>                “Have you ever met any other agents that were in relationships?” Scully hadn’t thought about softening the blow of the topic as she threw off the covers and stretched her toes as the cool air settled across her body. “Or is that something that doesn’t happen?”</p>
<p>                “Is that what I walked back into last night? Hayes and Whittaker are a thing?” Mulder yawned and rolled onto his back as the Murphy bed wailed beneath him. “Jesus, this bed is comfortable but I’m wondering how old the parts are. Loud as hell.”</p>
<p>                “They’re engaged,” Scully was far away again as the sound of the ocean was soft from behind the pane of glass as she sat up and held a pillow against her chest. “Nothing here is normal, right down to the people from the Bureau that we’re working side-by-side with.”</p>
<p>                “<em>Normal</em> is all relative but there’s weird like Whittaker and Hayes, who might be a little funny farm but they just don’t compare to the shit going on in this town,” Mulder didn’t like the chill brewing in the air as he slid out of the covers and lingered on top of the sheets, his sweats riding up his shins as he bent his left leg. “I know why I’m awake but I don’t know why you’re awake…”</p>
<p>                “I’ve had a lot on my mind,” Scully could see his silhouette as he moved across the floor and fiddled with the modest coffee pot. “What are you doing?”</p>
<p>                “We’re up, might as well make some coffee,” Mulder turned his head, catching a glimpse of her as she let her feet touch the floor and run fingers through her messy hair. “You want coffee? Or do you want to deliberate for a while longer about the soon-to-be Mr. and Mrs. Whittaker?”</p>
<p>                “I’ll take that coffee,” Scully nodded and pulled the curtains open as the light filtered across the horizon, dotting the ocean from the east with a shimmer as waves rolled in. “If it weren’t for the job, I could live here.”</p>
<p>                “What’s the lure?” Mulder smirked as he set up the coffee pot, glancing back at the mess he’d made of the Murphy bed while Scully lingered at the second sliding door. “Is it the ample amount of buildings with driftwood finishes or the salt in the air? Leaning toward that excess in brainwashing?”</p>
<p>                This was how Scully preferred Mulder—crass and a little crazy. The man that had been giving her the cold shoulder for weeks was slowly fading away despite the inability to communicate beyond an endless cycle of arguments. The kind that was without a real resolution. They’d become too comfortable avoiding it and being far from the bustling normalcy of meandering through the halls of the FBI had left them exposed. Weakness highlighted. It might not have been the progress that either of them was looking for, but it was something.</p>
<p>                “Mulder,” Scully muffled a giggle into her palm and kept her eyes on the line where the sky met the ocean as another storm brewed to the west, sighing against the glass. “On the beach. Seeing a view like this one every morning.”</p>
<p>                “Sand in your crack every time you leave your house?” Mulder pushed the Murphy bed back into its upright position, briefly fighting the clasp as he could hear the gentle laughter from the other room.</p>
<p>                “Oh, come on,” Scully came around the corner and pulled open one side of the curtains, flooding half of the room with the blur of light as the sun began to come up, the haze of gray clouds off in the distance. “How could you not find something remarkable about that?”</p>
<p>                “You are way too high-spirited right now?” Mulder winced and slid the clasp back into place, shielding his face from the excess light as the scent of fresh coffee began to waft through the air. “I need java to properly combat the jolt of energy you’re putting forward.”</p>
<p>                “I can’t account for the fact that sleeplessness is translating to a mild form of delirium,” Scully popped off with it and smirked as she pulled the other side of the drapery open before stretching in the ambient light. “On a more serious note, though…It’s a little disconcerting that Isabelle’s uterus and ovaries were in such poor condition post-miscarriage. I forgot to mention that I sent a small biopsy of her uterine lining for further testing to rule out something medical.”</p>
<p>                “It’s funny that you mentioned Isabelle’s pregnancy and miscarriage because Hutchens is a little overly concerned by any detail involving her,” Mulder brought a steaming cup of coffee to Scully, silently marveling at the same sight of the ocean licking at the shore as he took his first sip. “I get a distinct impression that he knows more than he lets on.”</p>
<p>                “I’d put money on it that he was sleeping with her,” Scully had her lips on the edge of the cup, a tease of a smile hiding as she sipped, reveling in the warmth as it swirled.</p>
<p>                Mulder scoffed and nearly inhaled a mouthful of java as he coughed before wiping his lip. “No…Where would that come from?”</p>
<p>                “Just you wait,” Scully tilted her head to the side and cradled the cup close, letting the steam rise against her neck as the fog climbed over the edge of the trees to the north. “It’ll be painfully obvious that he’s less of a creep and more of a broken-hearted guy that was a little too good at his job if you catch my drift.”</p>
<p>                “Well, that’s certainly direct, Scully,” Mulder smirked into the cup and turned just in time for a couple of sharp knocks to reverberate through the room. “It’s a little early for visitors.”</p>
<p>                “Three guesses and two don’t count,” Scully earned a wide grin out of him as he crossed the room to peek through the peephole.</p>
<p>                Mulder grunted and opened the door, immediately greeted by Whittaker and Hayes, who were both dressed and significantly less disheveled than they were, by contrast. Mulder was already a touch annoyed at Scully’s level of energy and this was even worse as Hayes had a lidded cup angled at her lips. Scully turned around and tucked her free hand under her arm as she continued to nurse the coffee. Scully could already tell by the expression that Hayes and Whittaker seemed to share that the caffeine was going to be necessary. They were both somewhere between more awake than necessary and holding out on bad news as Whittaker had his knuckles elevated, prepped to knock again.</p>
<p>                “Oh, you <em>are</em> awake,” Whittaker’s eyes bugged out as he lowered his arm and straightened his tie, elevating his voice a little more than intended. “You’re not dressed, though.”</p>
<p>                “No, should we be?” Mulder shot Scully a sideways glance as she was unintentionally being distracting while she chewed on the edge of her lip while the ailing coffee in her grip was nearly to the bottom.</p>
<p>                “You’d better get dressed,” Hayes nodded and tossed her empty cup into the wastebasket by the door, a curious look on her face as she wiggled her brows. “There’s been another death.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>5:30 AM</p>
<p>Crescent Beach Trails</p>
<p>Upper Access Point</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                Suspicion. That was the only word that Mulder could attach to the way he was looking at Officer Hutchens as he watched the yellow tape lift out of the sand and slide around a couple of trees. The weather was making every forensic attempt less fruitful as the blue tarps were pushed into position. Scully was ten feet further up the trailhead where markers had been placed, where footprints began a strange skid pattern. The deep divots in the sand easily accommodated toes in one spot and bare heels in another. If they hadn’t known any better, they would’ve bet their life on it that she had been pulled then shoved the rest of the way.</p>
<p>                But there weren’t any discernible marks to fit that narrative and none of it made sense.</p>
<p>                “We have to move the body!” Crouch was shouting from below the cliff as the tide was already licking at the mound of sand around the body.</p>
<p>                “Jesus fuck, Crouch, have some God damn respect,” Hutchens was already pissed that they had an audience and now one of his loudest members of the force was broadcasting that the tide was coming in.</p>
<p>                “What’s going on?” Mulder turned around and met Hutchens at the edge while Scully gracelessly moved down between the gaps in the grass as a shortcut to close the gap.</p>
<p>                “The fucking tide is about to make things real shitty down there,” Hutchens had a vein popping out on his forehead as he knelt, pushing a yellow marker into a thicket of grass where bent sections had kissed the bottoms of feet. “The canopies are only going to provide cover for the scene up here but everything down there has about twenty minutes before we lose it.”</p>
<p>                Something was off. Mulder had his attention divided between Hutchens as he was losing all semblance of control and Scully’s quiet movements down the steeper parts of the trail. Her focus had honed in, narrowed on the position of the body in the shallows, and fixated on something that no one else had begun to notice. In the twists and crooked turns of limbs covered in a thin gown, Scully couldn’t help but pick apart what was wrong with the scene. She hovered and sank into the wet sands as her eyes lingered over the coil of fingers until the beads of onyx finally stood out amongst the blued flesh.</p>
<p>                “Mulder, you’re going to want to see this,” Scully re-established her footing as she pulled on a pair of rubber gloves, her eyes still fixed on their victim’s extended, mutilated arm as it reached across the sands.</p>
<p>                Mulder followed the same path with a lot less grace than Scully had previously demonstrated as his backside begged to drag along the bluff. Maneuverability was questionable but they were managing it like grains of sand were clinging to clothes and sneaking into shoes with every step. Mulder met a waiting glance from his partner as he came up beside her while slapping a pair of latex on. It earned a single lift of a brow as she tilted her chin before balancing back on her haunches. Mulder did the same and felt the unpleasant chill of water seeping into his shoes.</p>
<p>                “This better be worth filling up my shoes, Scully,” Mulder muttered under his breath as the squishing became audible at his feet as he steadied his squat.</p>
<p>                Scully lifted their victim’s wrist just enough to put a gap between the uneven, moisture locked sand and let the beadwork of the rosary fall in a singular motion. “One of these things is not like the other.”</p>
<p>                “Hail Mary,” Mulder quipped and watched as Scully freed a small black and gold cross from the center of Courtney’s palm that had gotten tucked against her gripped digits. “Begs the question of why a God-fearing woman would willingly step off the edge of the cliff…”</p>
<p>                “A woman rooted so heavily in her faith wouldn’t have jumped,” Scully slipped the rosary into an evidence bag and put it into the waiting hands of Officer Thea Connor as she took a moment from snapping photos of the scene. “Not without something severely wrong with her mentally, physically, or medically.”</p>
<p>                “You can’t let your personal point of view cloud the way you see this case, Scully,” Mulder knew before he even finished the comment that it was a mistake as the progress of their morning evaporated and the glare was directed at him.</p>
<p>                “If It hadn’t been me suggesting it, you’d be fine with considering it,” Scully snipped back and stood, towering over him for a moment as she grappled with the consternation before walking off toward the leveled out shore.</p>
<p>                One step forward and three steps back.</p>
<p>                Scully didn’t have to mention Diana but she still occupied space in her head and it was getting in the way of clarity as the striking nature of Courtney’s death did everything to come into focus. Dahlia red lips and a thin, satin nightgown didn’t make sense in conjunction with the personalized rosary that even death couldn’t pry from her grip. The circumstances didn’t make sense. The methodology didn’t coincide with suicide and Scully couldn’t bring herself to believe that it had been intentional. There was more at work than unhappiness manifesting to an extreme.</p>
<p>                Mulder’s reactions to Scully’s comments hadn’t made anything easier.</p>
<p>                “Agent Scully, we’re about to lose our position in the sand but we’ll have Courtney moved to the examiner’s office,” Hutchens caught her in a world of thoughts as the blare of a siren briefly sounded in the background. “I’ll make sure that everything is prepped and ready for an autopsy at your convenience.”</p>
<p>                A brief, icy stare was exchanged between Mulder and Scully before the two went into two different directions for the second time as lightning etched across the sky.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>6:15 AM</p>
<p>Medical Examiner’s Office</p>
<p>Cannon Beach, Oregon</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                Scully was pensive; her attention divided between the task in front of her, the guest she didn’t ask for, and the annoyance over Mulder’s inability to step into her shoes. It hampered her and crippled the forward progress. Scully was already drawing an unhealthy parallel between herself and the victim as the cold, crushing truth of her death aimed at more than acceptance of defeat. There was something more to it and Scully was baffled at her partner’s refusal to allow her insight to slip into the gaps and become something real. He was thwarting her, hampering the suggestion as though it were menial and useless.</p>
<p>                Scully’s lack of confidence had become resentment and every bit of it was aimed at Mulder.</p>
<p>                “You don’t need to be here,” Scully was already scrubbed in, ready, and less-than-interested in the company as Hayes accidentally snapped her gloves against the inside of her wrist. “This is going to get messy.”</p>
<p>                “I spent two years in a morgue in college to pay my way through the last half of my undergrad, Agent Scully,” Hayes blinked, her positivity almost nauseating as she stood on the opposite side of the table. “The smell in here doesn’t compare to the kind you discover when cold storage finally has a compressor die.”</p>
<p>                Scully didn’t want to just say it; she didn’t want company. It would’ve come across considerably more exasperated than she’d intended. Hayes didn’t exactly ask to be present and the brunt of Scully’s perturbed energy was radiating toward her. It had been taxing to put on a brave face and pretend but Scully was doing her best not to show weakness. No one needed to know what was going on inside of her head. Not today.</p>
<p>                Scully reconciled her dissatisfaction with the situation as she found the brand along Courtney’s shoulder and mentally recollected the similarities to Isabelle’s.</p>
<p>                “Oh,” Scully said flatly as she cataloged the same external damage to the corpse as before, right down to the extensive scarring from lashes to the back.</p>
<p>                “I’m at your disposal,” Hayes was far too energetic for Scully’s taste but the attitude was appreciated as she watched Scully move with a calculated flare.</p>
<p>                Scully hadn’t even contemplated an incision as every mark on Courtney stood out with a certain amount of deliberate marksmanship. She’d been hit recently. Scully did a circle around the table and mentally noted the impact bruising to the Achilles on both ankles. She’d been confined. Metal had done the damage as no braiding seemed to dot into the bruising. Courtney had fought against the restraints and they’d been left on for a long time.</p>
<p>                “You look like you found something,” Hayes moved backward to get out of the way and continued watching Scully as her actions became more fascinating.</p>
<p>                “Yeah, I think so,” Scully nodded and turned one ankle to one side, comparing the size of her thumb to the deep-set bruising on the skin before glancing at her temporary assistance. “Hayes, could you press the record button on the recorder?”</p>
<p>                “Yeah, absolutely,” Hayes reached for the recorder and resumed the record function as Scully lifted her safety glasses to get a better look at the marks.</p>
<p>                “Autopsy note on Courtney Erin Larson from Special Agent Dana Scully. The victim has contact bruising around both ankles,” Scully addressed the second leg, gently turning it to make sure the pattern was the same as she exhaled slowly. “Marks would indicate metal—Likely steel shackles. Duration of use is unknown.”</p>
<p>                “Agent Scully, that isn’t normal is it?” Hayes didn’t want to interrupt but the appearance of that same, viscous material was leaking from Courtney’s lips, mingling with the crimson color of her lips at the corners.</p>
<p>                “Not at all,” Scully grabbed a couple of swabs and carefully collected multiple samples to be sent for testing, pushing her jaw down just a touch to part her lips. “Agent Hayes has observed the same, tacky substance found in prior corpse’s stomach lining. Anomalous material is slightly green and is all over the inside of Courtney’s mouth. I’ve taken test swabs for lab testing.”</p>
<p>                “Has the lab gotten back to you with any analysis on the previous sample?” Hayes was understandably curious as the compulsion to inquire had Scully slightly off-kilter as well as off her game.</p>
<p>                “It takes twenty-four hours for rushed samples to return, unfortunately,” Scully shook her head as her attention had already diverted toward Courtney’s midsection where it protruded just enough to send up every red flag. “This just took a severe turn if that’s what I think it is.”</p>
<p>                “What?” Hayes watched as Scully steadied a scalpel between her fingers and adjusted a grip along the abdominal curve.</p>
<p>                Scully made the first cut, mimicking the same motions of a c-section but not nearly as pronounced, and inhaled a breath as she glanced up at the recorder as it continued to blink red. “Swelling along the lower abdominal form, extending down to the top of the pelvic curve. It could be organ damage but I have a suspicion that we are dealing with a pregnancy nearing or surpassing sixteen weeks.”</p>
<p>                “You’re not serious, are you?” Hayes was already horrified as Scully was manipulating the flesh with some of the instruments on the nearby table.</p>
<p>                “I wish I weren’t,” Scully would’ve preferred to wave the white flag as the picture became clear and the small body was visible, curled up in the protection of Courtney’s womb, absent of breath and a heartbeat. “Internal confirmation of external conditions made. Courtney Larson was four months pregnant.”</p>
<p>                 Hayes had been upbeat since they’d arrived but her energy faded for the first time as a hint of sadness washed over her expression and softened her voice. “The baby never even had a chance did it, Agent Scully?”</p>
<p>                “Miraculous things have happened in the world of medicine when it comes to premature births but I shudder to think about the road that this one would’ve had to fight. When I say fight, I mean, the odds don’t go up to 50% until at least twenty-four weeks and this one isn’t close,” Scully shook her head and swallowed a bit of that same, hidden sadness despite an event that should’ve been filled with happiness, recollecting too much of her losses in the process. “It only furthers my inability to call these deaths <em>suicides</em>.”</p>
<p>                “Isabelle miscarried not long before her death and now this?” Hayes had a distant look in her eyes as she stared at Courtney’s face for far longer than she should’ve. “There are a lot more victims here than just these women if we prove that there’s foul play.”</p>
<p>                Scully already had her mind on the genetics as she reached for the necessary materials to take a sample for testing, lifting her head just enough to make eye contact with Hayes. “Finding out who the father of this child would be a really good place to start on a decent list of suspects in a town full of unknowns.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>               </p>
<p>7:30 AM</p>
<p>890 Ecola Park Rd</p>
<p>Cannon Beach, Oregon</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                <em>If It hadn’t been me suggesting it, you’d be fine with considering it.</em></p>
<p>                Mulder was transfixed on the phrasing Scully had used on him as the salt and mist moved against the windshield in the hills. She’d dug her heels in and the comment was one of the more direct stabs she had taken. He knew it was buried in truth, though, as the singular form of the cross dangling in Courtney’s lifeless hand had him spinning in circles. Scully wasn’t used to leaping but Mulder was even less apt to see her point of view when she did. He was already riddled with guilt as the light filtered through the thicket of trees and the fog weaved through branches, hugging along sections as Whittaker turned a corner off of Ecola Park Road.</p>
<p>                “Should we be expecting an interview with a caricature right out of a Stephen King novel?” Mulder squinted as they came over the rise of a long driveway to see the strikingly pale visage of a cloaked figure angled against one of the porch posts.</p>
<p>                Whittaker chuckled and put the car in park next to an older sedan with rusted quarter panels, glancing at the same quizzical sight in front of the small, rundown home. “Pastor Burton is a unique, eccentric guy but not in the way you’re thinking. I’m sure he’s part of that Ken Kesey era if you catch my drift.”</p>
<p>                “A little hippie mixed with an ample amount of psychedelics?” Mulder unbuckled and smirked as he slid out of the car. “Righteous.”</p>
<p>                “I’m impressed you know your Pacific Northwest royalty,” Whittaker jabbed as they meandered up the drive, barely capturing the attention of their gray-haired host.</p>
<p>                “Oxford was a lot more liberal than you’d think and flirting with girls was easier in at least one artsy class,” Mulder coaxed a healthy laugh out of Whittaker and let him take the lead with Pastor Burton.</p>
<p>                “Agent Whittaker, I wasn’t expecting to see you back in the area so soon,” Pastor Burton extended his hand and nodded gently, the deep silver streaks in his wild hair evident as his rain hood slipped out of place. “You brought company?”</p>
<p>                “Landon Burton, this is Agent Fox Mulder,” Whittaker gestured toward Mulder, a genuine smile on his face as he put a foot up on the edge of the steps, shaking loose some of the sand from his shoes. “Agent Mulder and his partner are here from DC helping with the case. Hayes is with her working on a few things back in town.”</p>
<p>                Pastor Burton had a gentle, yet stoic, demeanor as he shook Mulder’s hand but his eyes were looking through him, at the trees as they swayed with the incoming of a westerly wind. “Must be getting serious if you have more help—I don’t know how much information I can provide.”</p>
<p>                “Any little bit helps, Pastor,” Mulder leaned against the weathered railing and felt it give a little under his backside, the rusted nails and fixtures incapable of bearing weight. “I know that you used to be a lot closer to most people in town and you’ve moved away from that?”</p>
<p>                “I used to have a congregation that filled every pew each Sunday,” Pastor Burton crossed his arms and sighed into the air, his recollection fuzzy as he inhaled the chilly air. “Tragedy exposed that faith was all I had and this town no longer cared about the Christian way of life.”</p>
<p>                “It seems like it’s the opposite, though,” Mulder commented and watched Pastor Burton’s jaw clench, knowing he’d struck at least one nerve. “Correct me if I’m wrong.”</p>
<p>                “Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing, Agent Mulder, but inwardly are ravenous wolves,” Pastor Burton stared him down with his old, wise mahogany eyes as his tone took a grave turn as the sky went a deeper shade of gray. “Perhaps, we should take this conversation inside before the storm makes landfall? I’ll put a kettle on and we can continue this discussion.”</p>
<p>                Scully wasn’t the only one that was familiar with Biblical verses as Matthew 7:15 echoed in Mulder’s ears, slapping him like a warning. It couldn’t have been more foreboding. Not having her to match religious metaphor and wit was going to become tedious, though, and he was discovering the merit in not passing in the night like two ships. It wasn’t making any sense even if the efficiency seemed to be realistic and more effective. Mulder didn’t want to avow that he needed Scully this time. He pushed the barrage of thoughts aside as he followed Pastor Burton inside and let the screen door slap hard against the frame as he entered the foyer.</p>
<p>                It was then that sky opened and a torrential downpour began, soaking everything outside.</p>
<p>                “Are you a wizard?” Mulder was mostly joking as Pastor Burton pushed the door closed, the prophetic prediction of the weather change leaning toward eerie.</p>
<p>                “I’m a hermit but I do have access to basic cable, Agent Mulder,” Pastor Burton was already halfway to the modest kitchen, his hands on the top of a copper kettle to fill it as Mulder and Whittaker stood in the doorway. “I know you’re not here to discuss meteorological patterns and how an old man could make a reasonable assumption after watching the news.”</p>
<p>                Mulder appreciated Landon’s directness, almost as though the man had been unwilling to lose more sleep beating around a bush. “I was brought in to assess whether or not the string of jumpers might’ve been foul play or if they are, indeed, a series of unfortunate suicides. We’re not having a lot of luck with relatives or known associates—Forthcoming seems to be a foreign concept.”</p>
<p>                “It always will be with the people that reside here,” Pastor Burton gestured toward the breakfast nook where a rounded table and a few chairs sat along with a small, black cat that seemed particularly curious about his guests. “The ongoing theme of how things function here is hierarchy and control with a healthy mixture of misbehaving. The parentage of certain children is a little up in the air because the timing of affairs is questionable and the punishment resides squarely on the women. Boys will be boys.”</p>
<p>                Whittaker and Mulder maneuvered to the table, taking seats opposite each other while leaving one between them for Landon. The cat weaved through each of their legs, knocking its backside against their ankles while a motor of a purr vibrated against them. Whittaker ignored the not-so-subtle cry for attention while Mulder gave a quick, singular pat to the head. It was meager but it satisfied the ball of fluff as he flopped onto the floor and began batting around one of Mulder’s dangling laces. It was a harmless act but just distracting enough to not notice he was being stared at.</p>
<p>                “Is that why you’re a recluse now?” Whittaker rolled his eyes at Mulder and leaned against his elbow, watching the unnecessary level of work that Landon was putting into their cups of tea.</p>
<p>                “Be careful with Ember, give her enough attention and she’ll follow you every time you’re here,” Pastor Burton brought them the fresh brews and placed them on the table, smirking as Mulder raised a brow at the cat. “I’m an outcast because I was exiled. I don’t treat females as though they are second or third-class citizens…I refused to help put a woman in a cage for being punished too many times.”</p>
<p>                Mulder nearly choked on his tea, startling the cat at his feet just enough to untie his shoe. “Shit. Back up just one fucking minute. Are you saying that the men in this town frequently imprison the women?”</p>
<p>                “It would go hand in hand with the scars on their backs, Mulder,” Whittaker was reasoning with the unknowns as he held his cup of tea between his fingers while the rain pounded against the glass. “Divvying up barbaric punishments, breaking them down bodily—”</p>
<p>                “Brainwashing,” Pastor Burton’s eyes were fixed on a single nail sticking out of the wall as his voice went flat, almost monotone. “It’s the kind of torture tactics that you’d hear about in some sort of death camp.”</p>
<p>                “How do you know all of this?” Mulder was horrified and perplexed by the revelation as he thought of the peculiar behavior that Felecia had displayed.</p>
<p>                “I married into this existence, Agent Mulder,” Pastor Burton didn’t have all of the control of his emotions as he took a breath and buried his feelings a little deeper as he glanced at a wooden cross affixed to the center of a support beam. “My dearly departed wife bore those same marks and spent years grappling with the person she was. I didn’t know which version of my Abigail I was going to get. We didn’t lead the life that she was raised with.”</p>
<p>                Mulder didn’t want to even suggest it but it was in his mind. “She didn’t—”</p>
<p>                “No, I worked very hard to make sure she was happy,” Pastor Burton had a weak smile on his face but he was far away, the hurt creeping in as he took a sip of tea. “That’s one of the ways that these moldable young women are being lost to us. Unhappiness is easy to find and exploit.”</p>
<p>                “What does that mean, Landon?” Whittaker had spent more time and the first name rolled off his tongue so much more freely than it did for Mulder.</p>
<p>                “If there’s even a sign that a woman is going to resist enough to leave, even after the torture, the lashing, and the brainwashing,” Pastor Burton paused and stared at the floor before rubbing the bridge of his nose. “The final push doesn’t come from the fall—It’s the elixir that plants the seed and makes every weakness bloom until they want nothing more than the embrace of death.”</p>
<p>                “An elixir?” Mulder’s spine stiffened as he held his cup in the air.</p>
<p>                Pastor Burton gave a singular nod after another swallow of the semi-sweet brew, hesitancy in his voice. “The ultimate combination that the body cannot fight against—Every nightmare plays out and your only hope to stop the reel from repeating, is to jump.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Quotes by:<br/>EM.X.<br/>Atticus</p>
<p>The pattern of how Aiden (and company) talk is going to make you twitch...they don't have normalcy. They flick their hierarchy at you. I hope it's becoming noticeable. </p>
<p>PS: KEN KESEY IS ROYALTY. FIGHT ME.</p>
<p>Monika, this was one chapter you caught a lot more things I was able to "fix". Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Psilocybe Azurescens</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Scully pushes Aiden’s buttons after a startling discovery is made about Courtney’s corpse while Mulder is caught between a rock and a hard place with a new face in the crowd. The tension continues to rise between partners—And a flame is lit in the dark.</p>
<p>“I wish that I did not know, where all broken lovers go…” – Alan Olav Walker (and others)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Psilocybe Azurescens the technical name for Flying Saucer Mushrooms – potent, hallucinogenic, and very common in Oregon. I’m sure you know where this is going.</p>
<p>Warning: Open discussion about suicide, varying degrees of torture, and cult behavior is mentioned in this fic. None of it is intended to harm or, otherwise, trigger the reader.</p>
<p>This is a serious issue, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is available to help. The lifeline provides 24/7, free and confidential support for people in distress, prevention and crisis resources for you or your loved ones, and best practices for professionals. Please, call 1-800-273-8255. Don’t stay silent. This might be “just a fic” but it holds real issues, with real consequences. Don’t suffer alone.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>I like the way you say it</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Tell me the words you told me that day</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maybe if I could believe it I could just say</em>
</p>
<p>-Jillian Rose Banks, Brandon Treyshun Campbell, &amp; Kevin Grant</p>
<p> </p>
<p>8:30 AM</p>
<p>Medical Examiner’s Office</p>
<p>Cannon Beach, Oregon</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                Scully pulled the soiled gloves and scrubs off, disposing of both in their designated bins. Hayes had been more help than she had anticipated as the second set of scrubs were tossed into the biohazard bin for proper cleaning. They both shared the same expression. Doubt had crept in about the case as Scully reached for the clipboard while Hayes pressed stop on the recorder. Scully flipped the pages, scanned to the bottom of the final one, and made a risk with her indication.</p>
<p>                The cause of death was determined non-accidental via inhalation or ingestion.</p>
<p>                “I will either never hear the end of it for this or those cold cases will finally see the light of day,” Scully tilted the clipboard toward Hayes and gathered the remainder of the paperwork as another gust of wind battered the side of the building. “Jesus.”</p>
<p>                “It’s getting bad out there,” Hayes didn’t even flinch as she scanned the document, smirking at the COD written at the bottom. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re wrong. Too many coincidences. It doesn’t make sense.”</p>
<p>                Scully opened the door leading to the hall and gestured toward the center of the hall, ushering Hayes out of the space after putting away the last of the instruments. “If only you could convince Mulder of seeing it from my perspective.”</p>
<p>                “Oof, well, you have me stumped on that one,” Hayes kept pace with her as they moved down the poorly lit, quiet hallway that aimed to a set of double doors at the front of the building. “Is he usually the guy with all of the theories while you’re usually just along for the ride? Follow along with every scheme, even the ones that land you in the Assistant Director’s office?”</p>
<p>                Scully couldn’t tell if she was hearing a repeat of what Hayes had gone through or if she was doing a good job of reading her, but it was hitting her between the eyes. Scully had been perpetually positioned in Mulder’s shadow for a long time; blinded by the spotlight of his passion, his confidence, his unrelenting fire. There was a time she felt as though he’d let her get close enough to be parallel, side-by-side, but that had faded. Scully had already contemplated walking away once and being out of synch had only deepened the possibility of making it final. Mulder didn’t need her. He’d made it clear.</p>
<p>                “I’ll just say that I’ve made more compromises than I’d care to admit to,” Scully didn’t want to look Hayes in the eye as she let part of her armor weaken to say it out loud. “All for the sake of a partnership that has become a little one-sided.”</p>
<p>                The comment wasn’t lost on Hayes as she gave a gentle squeeze to the shoulder, providing a layer of understanding that Scully hadn’t felt since she lost Missy. “You know, men are a little impervious to their actions…I’m sure he isn’t doing it with intent. If he is, though? Kick him directly in the testicles. Make it hurt.”</p>
<p>                “Agent Scully?” Kimberly interrupted the conversation as she turned a clipboard toward her, a soft, genuine smile on her face as she stood up from behind the counter. “I forgot to have you double-check this document order for the Portland office? It says rush order DNA profile but there’s a space blank.”</p>
<p>                Scully turned around and skimmed the document with the tip of the pen, nodding carefully as she made certain everything was correct. “Everything is correct. This spot is blank intentionally because we don’t know this particular information or have an assumption of that information, yet. That’s why I need it rushed.”</p>
<p>                “Oh,” It was evident by the expression on Kimberly’s face that she knew exactly what the document was referencing as she slid the document into an overnight envelope, sealing it carefully. “Is this information supposed to help with your case? I know I shouldn’t be asking but I’m morbidly curious.”</p>
<p>                “Kimberly, if you know something that might pertain to this investigation, I encourage you to tell us,” Scully watched her put the scanned label across the front and set it aside, a lost look in her eyes as though she’d just watched a ghost cross the floor. “Don’t let it eat at you.”</p>
<p>                The confidence that had begun to bloom was all but gone as Kimberly looked at the front entrance, watching the passersby as they glanced up at her. “No, nothing that will help.”</p>
<p>                Scully reached for a pen and jotted a phone number across the back of Kimberly’s business cards before sliding it across the countertop. “If you change your mind and something seems relevant…call that number. I’ll answer it.”</p>
<p>                Kimberly was staring through Scully, at the glass, tentatively waiting to take the card but nodding as she covered it with her palm. “I’ll remember that, thanks.”</p>
<p>                Her actions were suspicious, but she wasn’t alone in that activity as Hayes and Scully departed the building only to see Aiden staring in their direction from the sidewalk. Kimberly’s motivation likely had something to do with Aiden, down to an unseen gesture or behavior that he exhibited. He reeked of desperation even as they approached, witnessing his demeanor change as though he hadn’t realized they were there. It was robotic, lacked emotion, and carried intention as his pearly, white grin did nothing but raise Scully and Hayes’s alarms.</p>
<p>                “Good morning, Agent Hayes and Agent Scully, you two are out and about awfully early alone today,”                Aiden’s enthusiasm was as constructed as those teeth were as he thrust his hand out, offering it up toward both to shake. “Early bird gets the worm?”</p>
<p>                “It’s so funny that you’d use that<em> exact</em> phrase,” Scully sounded like Mulder as she referred more toward the worm and less of the bird as she barely made hand-to-hand contact with Aiden, her smirk not nearly as fake as his. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”</p>
<p>                Hayes nearly swallowed her tongue as she held in the laugh, her attention slightly diverted toward the street just parallel to theirs, where Whittaker and Mulder were waiting at a crosswalk. “They look stressed out.”</p>
<p>                “It’ll be even more to pile on some information about Courtney’s pregnancy,” Scully said it just loud enough that Aiden couldn’t mistake it, his focus moving back toward her as she took a step beyond his scope.</p>
<p>                “Pregnant? What does Courtney being one of the town tramps have to do with anything, Agent Scully?” Aiden twitched and crossed his arms as Scully stopped dead in her tracks.</p>
<p>                Scully narrowed her stare as she turned to look at him head-on, a less-than-pleased expression taking over her cool exterior as the rain began to drench her hair. “It has everything to do with the possibility that the father of her child didn’t want it with enough intensity that he’d do anything to stop it. I’m sure you’ve thought about that, Mister Townsend.”</p>
<p>                “Are you trying to intimidate me, Agent Scully?” Aiden might’ve had a smile on his face but his hands were shaking as he took a step toward Scully, towering over her significantly shorter frame as though she were his property. “That’s what it sounds like you’re doing.”</p>
<p>                “You’ll know when I’m trying to do anything, Mister Townsend,” Scully knew how upset he was becoming as she planted her feet and held her stance, staring up at him with far more intensity raging than he was used to. “If you’ll excuse us?”</p>
<p>                “You sure do know how to kick down a whole nest of wasps, don’t you?” Hayes whispered as they continued down the sidewalk where Whittaker and Mulder were just out of shouting distance.</p>
<p>                “I don’t know if it was quite that bad,” Scully stole a peek over her shoulder at Aiden as he continued to glower at them from the same spot before smirking at Hayes. “I shook the trees.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>2:00 PM</p>
<p>N Hemlock Street</p>
<p>Cannon Beach, Oregon</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                “Nothing is out of place,” Mulder was expecting something, anything, to be off about Courtney’s little bungalow style house but it was perfect, almost too perfect. “What are we missing?”</p>
<p>                “Crime scene was awfully thorough,” Whittaker was even more confused than Mulder as he ran his gloved index across a surface to show the soft, bluish powder residue. “Not so much on the cleaning afterward, part, though.”</p>
<p>                “The observation, or lack thereof, from the men we surround ourselves with, Agent Scully,” Hayes rolled her eyes as she looked over at Scully before sighing into the air and furrowing her brow at her fiancé. “You two don’t see anything wrong with this house?”</p>
<p>                “Don’t make them work so hard,” Scully was already fixated on the oversimplification of everything inside, down to the makeup desk in the bedroom where a puddle had accumulated at the base of an open window. “You’ll make smoke come out of their ears.”</p>
<p>                “Do either of you see personal photographs of friends? Family? Pets?” Hayes spun around, extending her arms dramatically at obscenely blank walls minus a few, framed paintings that were generic at best. “I don’t see a real identity here. She has almost nothing that identifies the personal character. Just a lot of hand-me-down belongings, nondescript clothing, and religious symbology on every wall. Nothing would suggest a thriving, single woman resided here.”</p>
<p>                “If one had to assume about the appearance of her home, she was preparing early for a death shroud,” Scully moved to the hallway and pushed a door open, revealing a beautifully adorned room with an abundance of baby things in it, perfectly arranged for the arrival of a child. “Then you look in here and it paints an entirely different picture of her mental state.”</p>
<p>                “She was excited about the baby,” Mulder muttered as he peeked around the corner at the dainty display of little animals and purples mixed with pastel blues around the room.</p>
<p>                “It’s almost as though he’s disappointed over being schooled,” Hayes rolled her eyes and laughed as she pulled the drawer at the dressing table open. “Well, well, well…what do we have over here?”</p>
<p>                “Is that necessary?” Whittaker wanted to ram his head into the plaster as his fiancée was doing her best to rub their noses in it as she lifted a locket from the drawer, letting it dangle free like it was the Holy Grail. “Just say it.”</p>
<p>                “She didn’t have a reason to have anything that held meaning until she got pregnant,” Scully didn’t need to see the locket to know what it contained as she craned her neck to see Hayes smirking from the corner of the room. “Who is in the locket, Hayes?”</p>
<p>                “Well, Courtney kept a photo of a man that looks suspiciously like a younger version of Aiden Townsend,” Hayes wiggled her eyebrows and snapped it shut, humming for a second as she slid it into an evidence bag. “Ten bucks says that the DNA is going to be very promising.”</p>
<p>                The scarce amount of clues they’d managed to add to their arsenal along with the information from Pastor Barton was giving fluidity to the case. It had begun to gain traction and some daylight, even as the heavy squall outside battered the siding. The weather was nothing out of the ordinary for Whittaker and Hayes, though, as they navigated the space with ease. Mulder might’ve been more comfortable if it hadn’t been for the remnant of strain that had been swallowing up the usual cohesion with Scully. Mulder knew, as he caught a glimpse of Scully over-analyzing a cross, that he’d been the one to push her in opposition.</p>
<p>                “Excuse me? Is someone in here?” A mousy, high pitched voice came from the front door after an elongated squeal of the hinge, interrupting the moment of clarity. “Hello?”</p>
<p>                Mulder was the closest to the front room as he scrambled to keep the woman on the other side of the yellow tape, his tone stern as she proceeded to drip the exterior of her coat onto the floor. “Ma’am, you can’t be here—This is an active crime scene. You’re going to have to step back outside.”</p>
<p>                The smile was too much but he acquiesced to the coral sheen on her lips beneath mahogany and copper eyes, framed by long, sweeping curls that were almost the color of night. “I’m no ma’am, <em>officer</em>?”</p>
<p>                “<em>Agent</em> Mulder,” Mulder put emphasis on it and ushered her toward the door as he moved beneath the tape. “Is there a reason you stopped by, miss?”</p>
<p>                “Oh, I’m Emmaline Clark, one of your colleagues actually spoke briefly to my daughter Suzie, about Isabelle’s death?” Emmaline was short, but not quite as petite as Scully, and over-dressed for a walk in the rain as Mulder glanced at the wet, red pumps. “My husband is Theo? I’m sure you couldn’t forget him…real bear of a man. You know the type, Agent Mulder?”</p>
<p>                “I didn’t get to meet your husband, Mrs. Clark. That was my colleague Agent Whittaker,” Mulder was taken aback by her physicality as she moved her fingers around the bottom of his tie, palming it as though they were more than acquaintances. “I’m sorry, you didn’t say why you were here?”</p>
<p>                “Oh, I didn’t, did I?” Emmaline’s rasp dropped an octave as she toyed with his tie and the curly ends of her hair at the same time, a flirty smile on her lips as she redistributed her lipstick just a touch. “I know that it was apparent by the way things looked in here that Courtney was such a sad soul. It’s a tragedy, really. Everyone talked about how sad it was that she wanted things she just couldn’t have. Small towns are full of gossips, Agent Mulder.”</p>
<p>                Scully had been quietly observing from the edge of the hall, head tilted inquisitively. The language that Emmaline had been using was tipping the scales from a concerned friend toward a place that she could only describe as seductive. She couldn’t quite make out Emmaline’s face but she could see the movement of her hands and knew that low, sultry dip to a woman’s voice. He hadn’t taken a step back. He hadn’t taken possession of his tie, either. It was more than enough to remind her of someone else, reverting the contents of her stomach to a sick, sinking feeling as she took a couple of unsettled steps toward the door.</p>
<p>                “Is everything okay, Mulder?” Scully sounded meek as she stopped forward progress just behind him, holding in the urge to reach for his shoulder as she watched him jump at the sound of her voice.</p>
<p>                “Oh, yeah, Scully, this is Emmaline Clark. She knew Courtney and her daughter was on the beach the night Isabelle died,” Mulder pivoted to look at Scully, a flustered look passing over his face as he straightened his tie and leaned against the door frame. “A lot of connections in this very small town we’ve gotten ourselves…planted in.”</p>
<p>                “Well, you’re certainly very charming, Agent Mulder,” Emmaline had been waiting for the moment to make the obligatory comment, delighting as she watched Scully’s arms cross and her eyes narrow despite the best effort not to. “I just wanted to stop by to see if you’d found anything helpful to restore some peace and quiet to our little town. There’s just so much chaos because of the increase in so much feminine weakness.”</p>
<p>                Emmaline’s devotion to the heavily saturated patriarchal dynamic had everyone in the room taken aback. It was backward and put the other two women into an awkward stance as the 1950s came raging back. They were stuck, without progress, in roles that limited what they could do, say, or seek out. It wasn’t healthy and Scully couldn’t help but find herself wondering how long Emmaline had been conditioned to think that way. She glanced back at Hayes as they were already thinking it, in unison, that they’d love to know if she had scars on her back as well.</p>
<p>                They couldn’t get past the idea that maybe the scars were worse.</p>
<p>                “It isn’t anything we can divulge but if you know something that could contribute to what we’re looking for…” Scully didn’t want to have information spread like wildfire from the perfectly lined lips of their uninvited guest as she shook her head gently. “It would be helpful to disclose that information to us.”</p>
<p>                “Well, I mean…I don’t think so,” Emmaline’s smile was slowly fading as her fingers wrapped around the porch rail and her chin angled to the left at the end of the street, the change in her tone evident as she took a step back. “I should be going. If I think of anything—I know how to find you.”</p>
<p>                Emmaline had a lost look in her eyes like she was grappling with the reality of where she was as she held her coat shut and forced an aloof smile in Scully’s direction. Emmaline didn’t wait for any of the agents to say a word as she scooted off the porch and lifted her hood to shield herself from the rain. It did nothing but add another layer to the peculiar nature of the citizens of Cannon Beach. Scully wanted to focus on the weirdness but she was repeating the flirtation over in her head, fixating on Mulder’s facial expressions that didn’t seem to mind the moment. Scully wouldn’t have known, though, that Mulder’s thoughts were on anything but that conversation as he stepped onto the porch to squint through the rainfall.</p>
<p>                Mulder took a step forward, his eyes directing into the same location that Emmaline had stared at, furrowing his brows at the line of male figures as they began to slowly scatter in every direction. “I can’t explain it but this place just gets weirder by the second.”</p>
<p>               </p>
<p> </p>
<p>10:30 PM</p>
<p>The Waves at Cannon Beach</p>
<p>188 W 2<sup>nd</sup> Street, Cannon Beach</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                They’d avoided talking to each other alone for hours. Scully wanted to hit him and Mulder was white-knuckling every piece of furniture to keep from yelling at her. Scully had caught Mulder casually flirting with Emmaline. Scully wanted to find the humor in it. It was during a case, on Valentine’s Day, and it wasn’t with Diana, but every aching fiber of her soul was picturing that kick to the nuts that Hayes had suggested. Scully was certain that Mulder didn’t even know, or care, that he’d done anything to piss her off.</p>
<p>                It had become a pattern that he didn’t even bother to recognize.</p>
<p>                “How long are you going to ignore me, Scully?” Mulder broke the uncomfortable silence in the air as he flipped through the basic cable while she brushed her teeth with the bathroom door open.</p>
<p>                Scully rinsed her mouth and flicked the light off, a less than pleasant expression developing on her face as she crossed the floor to escape his penetrative stare. “As long as necessary.”</p>
<p>                “That’s not a quantifiable measurement of time,” Mulder was trying to be coy as he turned the television off and followed her, the childishness in him taking center stage as he flung the door open before she could slam it in his face. “Come on, you know that was funny.”</p>
<p>                “Ha…ha…ha…satisfied?” Scully’s nonchalant tone was betrayed by the look on her face as her eyes widened after the thud of the door against the stopper. “Now, are we done here or do you want to keep pushing the issue?”</p>
<p>                “What is wrong with you?” Mulder raised his voice and tracked her movements as she turned her back on him to move toward the sliding glass door as the rain pelted the balcony outside. “You’ve done everything you can to avoid being alone with me and have started more arguments in the past week than you have since the day I met you.”</p>
<p>                “Nothing is wrong with me, Mulder,” Scully spun around and pointed a finger at him, her anger finally boiling over as she made him take a step back with the look in her eyes. “I have followed you every step of the way and the second I question anything or suggest something out of your purview, it becomes a problem. You have never respected my point of view and it has taken watching her come back into your life for me to see that no matter what I do—It’ll always be second rate by comparison.”</p>
<p>                “That isn’t true,” Mulder played the invisible tug-of-war with her, letting her tighten the strings as she let the cold in with the slide of the door to the balcony. “So, that’s how you’re going to operate? Throw a grenade and walk?”</p>
<p>                “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you throw a grenade?” Scully wasn’t afraid of the storm and the discontent sensation swirling through her belly was suffocating as she stepped into the open air. “Don’t think for a second that it escaped me how comfortable you looked when Emmaline Clark flirted with you today. I saw what that woman looked like. You do have a type.”</p>
<p>                “Oh, for the love of Christ,” Mulder was flabbergasted and irritated at the same time as he held onto the handle to the slider. “What would it matter if that woman flirted with me or not, Scully? Are you jealous or something?”</p>
<p>                Scully instantly regretted opening her mouth as she let the rain pelt the top of her head while she tucked the hair behind her ears. “Just forget it, Mulder. None of it matters in the end, does it?”</p>
<p>                “You wouldn’t have said it,” Mulder wanted to throttle her but he was mystified by the damp patterning developing on the material of her shirt as it started to cling to the delicate curves of her arms, her sides, her back. “Just talk to me.”</p>
<p>                “I never thought I’d say it again and mean it,” Scully sighed into the wind and pushed the collected droplets across the railing. “I once told you that I just slow you down and hold you back. You assured me that it wasn’t true but here we are, having the same, exact argument as though we’ve gone in reverse.”</p>
<p>                “You’re exaggerating, Scully,” Mulder had replayed the night in his hallway more times than he could count and every time, the elasticity of time would slap him back down the moment he knew he couldn’t finish what he started. “You don’t have to remind me of that conversation. I was there, too.”</p>
<p>                Scully wasn’t wrong. They really were going in reverse. They’d developed a passive-aggressive method of dealing with each other, right down to the moment that Diana Fowley came back. Scully wasn’t upset about the likes of Emmaline Clark flirting with Mulder. It was the reminder that she looked so much like the woman that had turned the world completely upside down. Mulder couldn’t just admit it, though, that Scully’s qualms were justified. Mulder couldn’t just say it out loud that he understood why Scully had volunteered to take the backseat.</p>
<p>                Scully’s shoulders slumped inward as she drew her arms toward her chest, hiding a little more of herself against the railing. “Don’t worry about it anymore, you won’t have to put up with it for much longer.”</p>
<p>                “What in the <em>fuck</em> does that mean?” Mulder was close to letting her win the argument but her Devil-may-care comment had jabbed the knife a little deeper between his ribs as he followed her onto the balcony. “Scully?”</p>
<p>                Scully didn’t bother to turn around as she leaned against the railing, staring out through a downpour at high surf as it battered the shore, the emphasis pointed as she elevated it only to be heard. “It’s nothing to be concerned with, Mulder. It won’t be your problem anymore.”</p>
<p>                “I refuse to believe that!” Mulder was already shaking from irritation and the chill alike as he stood just feet behind her, not giving a care over how loud he was getting. “Don’t shut me out.”</p>
<p>                “Why shouldn’t I? You’ve been shutting me out for years,” Scully ran a couple of fingers through her hair as the rain-drenched her hair and dripped down her face, making it nearly impossible to see without squinting. “I’m putting in for a transfer after this case is over with.”</p>
<p>                Mulder had no words to elucidate what her disclosure had struck within him as his nostrils flared and his face turned white. He couldn’t breathe as every emotion disconnected and flashed, slamming against his consciousness like a truck with no brakes. He said nothing as he reached for her arm, assertively spinning her around on the slick, unfinished decking. He held her there despite the shaking against his chest and the thudding of his heart in his throat. It was invasive and over-zealous but confrontation had finally come to an impasse as Mulder’s stare burned through her. Scully wanted to look away but couldn’t as the air went out of her lungs and dove into a crashing wave.</p>
<p>                They were so consumed with the fight and the consequent degradation of it that they never noticed the prying eyes of Kara and Hannah from a neighboring balcony, nor would they hear the gossipy whispers muted by thunder.</p>
<p>                “I won’t just let it go,” Mulder had been this close to her before but something flickered, like a burning ember, as his footing slid and grip on her arm tugged her away from the railing.</p>
<p>                “What do you want from me?” Scully had her fingers around his bicep to equalize balance as her feet wavered even as they passed the threshold.</p>
<p>                Mulder’s free hand moved beneath the soaked layers of linen at the small of her back, pulling her to him as though they’d done this dance a thousand times. “Anything you’ll let me have…”</p>
<p>                “You’re getting the carpet wet, Mulder,” Scully had the wind at her back and the tips of Mulder’s fingers along the exposed skin, tugging her until her knees knocked against his. “Close the door.”</p>
<p>                “I’ll pay for the damage,” Mulder could’ve listened to her say his name a thousand times but he wanted more as finally let go of her arm and moved his grasp to her jaw, tilting her chin up.</p>
<p>                It was inescapable, raw, and electric. There was nothing soft about it as Mulder’s teeth grazed her bottom lip while moving his hand from her lower back to her backside, throttling a lot more than her body. Scully barely had a moment’s contemplation as she held onto him and moved onto the tips of her toes, meeting that same intensity as heat clashed with the bitterly cold air. Scully swallowed a moan as his tongue slipped past her teeth and his grip against her ass lifted her off the ground enough to push her inseam against her throbbing, aching core. Scully’s eyes rolled back in a flutter of lashes as her head started to swim.</p>
<p>                If Scully hadn’t known any better, she would’ve sworn he’d imagined this moment and thought about it to the point that he’d memorized every curve before touching it.</p>
<p>                “Oh, God, Mulder,” Scully was off-balance as she gave up the control, and her knees buckled against the edge of the dresser.</p>
<p>                “I know, I know, I know,” Mulder groaned and guided her thigh against his hip, lifting her onto the smooth, wet surface of the dresser while his fingers went to work on the clasp of her slacks.</p>
<p>                Scully wanted him more than she could fathom but the lingering fear resided at the back of her consciousness even as his mouth nibbled her from earlobe to shoulder. “Why now? Why here? Why me?”</p>
<p>                Mulder couldn’t pretend like he could put together all of her fragmented pieces that had been broken by any man that came before or that inspiring the rush of her beating heart would set the world back on track but he was going to try. His gaze met hers and resided there while quick fingers undid every button to her navel, exposing the expanse of her gentle curves to the whipping wind. The sky lit up in a streak of blue, purple, and white as the veins of lightning etched through the clouds and scrawled the names of Gods and their lovers. Scully turned her head as the last glint of light disappeared seconds before the boom of thunder shook the floor, rattling every piece of glass in the room. Scully’s stare narrowed on the wet pattern on the fluffy, shag carpet next to the open door as the oxygen finally left Mulder’s lips.</p>
<p>                Scully couldn’t help but picture him doing the same thing to Diana and it spread like cancer through her as she slid down from the dresser like a wilted flower.</p>
<p>                “Shit, it really is getting the floor wet,” Mulder moved to the slider and battled against the wind to pull it shut, locking the mechanism as it hushed a whine of air in the gap before turning back around. “Shouldn’t be that bad, it’ll dry…hey, what’s wrong?”</p>
<p>                “This was a mistake, Mulder,” Scully held her shirt closed, white-knuckling her dignity as she felt resistance rage within her. “We’re both tired and doing things we don’t mean.”</p>
<p>                “I didn’t say…” Mulder’s shoulders mimicked the downtrodden expression on his face as he bit down on the corner of his bitten and bruised lips, nodding gently as he swallowed his words. “At least, uh, let me go get a couple of towels from the bathroom to put on that spot near the door.”</p>
<p>                “Yeah, that’s fine,” Scully reached for dry pajamas and looked away from him, tears already welling up as she pulled back the covers.</p>
<p>                Mulder let the confusion spiral as he stared at the back of her for a moment before moving slowly out of the room. He didn’t understand what had gone wrong this time. He didn’t want to understand it, either. Mulder wanted to be able to erase the reel in his head that ended with being unable to cross the bridge with Scully; it looked like he was adding another to his memory, instead. Mulder snagged the towels from the bathroom and found himself quietly listening as he could already hear the muted sobbing coming from where he’d left her.</p>
<p>                Scully was crushing his soul and she didn’t even know she was doing it.</p>
<p>                Mulder was content to give her the time she needed to let the moment pass but he knew it was worse as he laid out the towels and pulled the inner layer of curtains closed. “That should be dry by morning…Goodnight, Scully.”</p>
<p>                “Goodnight, Mulder,” Scully’s voice was already ragged from the tears as she choked back another sob and kept her head against the pillow.</p>
<p>                Mulder stared at the floor and was reticent to walk out but he did. He changed into his dry sweatpants and could hear the unbearable murmur of Scully’s continued crying from the bedroom that he’d left her in. It was killing him, one droplet and each stuttered inhale at a time. Mulder reached for the latch on the Murphy bed and listened to the shuffle of bedding and the creak of the springs as Scully battled the mental demons that had awakened within her. It was more than he could bear as he pushed the latch into place and went to the door, pushing it all the way open.</p>
<p>                “Move over,” It wasn’t a demand as Mulder’s voice was soft, melodic, and careful as he pulled back the blankets and started climbing in behind her.</p>
<p>                Scully slid toward the window and gasped as his heat radiated against her with the sweeping of his arm as he wrapped it around her waist. “What are you doing?”</p>
<p>                “Getting warm,” Mulder lied as he nuzzled his nose against the back of her head, inhaling the scent of salt and shampoo in her hair, spooning up to her.</p>
<p>                Mulder knew being this close to her was out of comfort but Scully was feeling anything but that. She sighed even as the tears began to dry, forcing the sadness back a little deeper as Mulder’s lips brushed against the back of her neck. Mulder could’ve stayed like that for as long as she’d let him. He couldn’t get enough of the way she felt, the way she smelled, and the sound of her breathing as she battled against sleep. To anyone else, it looked like affection but to Scully, it was only pity.</p>
<p>               </p>
<p> </p>
<p>11:45 PM</p>
<p>148 N Larch St</p>
<p>Cannon Beach</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                The screen door swung, slamming repeatedly against the driftwood siding. The wind howled through the gaps in the windows and moved the photographs on the wall back and forth. The murmur of music echoed over the sound of distant thunder as another candle was snuffed out. The single bedroom, cozy cottage glowed from the inside, the lights off and replaced by lit wicks that dangled in melted wax or kerosene. Faintly, in the darkest of the rooms, on the edge of the mattress, the sheen of satin blowing along her legs as she stared at the mirror.</p>
<p>
  <em>And I could hear the thunder and see the lightning crack</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And all around the world was waking, I never could go back</em>
</p>
<p>                “Deliver me…deliver me…deliver me,” Maria Schmidt had streaks of tears down her face, the distant look in her eyes as the words were coming out as whispers fading into the mist.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘Cause all the walls of dreaming, they were torn right open</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And finally it seemed that the spell was broken</em>
</p>
<p>                Maria stood and pressed her knees against the back of the vanity stool, reaching for the golden tube of lipstick with the cap already out of place. Locks of raven and night rolled across her shoulders, the ends reaching the center of her back. Maria tucked the hair back, exposing the upper edge of her brand and the wisps of scarring at the top of her nightgown, the reddened lines barely scabbed over. She swayed like the drapery as the color glided on, painting the deep crimson across her lips. It didn’t fit in against the pale color of her skin and the soft freckles along her cheeks, down her chest, on her shoulders.</p>
<p>                “Save me from myself, deliver me,” Maria mumbled as another tear streaked down her cheek, the melancholic melody finding a rhythm against another round of thunder. “Save my soul…Save my soul from the pain…”</p>
<p>
  <em>And all my bones began to shake, my eyes flew open</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And all my bones began to shake, my eyes flew open</em>
</p>
<p>                Maria palmed the mirror, dragging her fingers down the glass until they stuttered across the surface, leaving little marks in their wake. She stared at the smeared reflection, no longer recognizing the woman before her. It left a lasting impression as the impulse clicked and the lightning flickered in the windows. She’d all but given up as she turned toward the first of the licking flames. Maria blew out each flame, one-by-one, extinguishing the remaining light from her home. From her life.</p>
<p>                Through the wafting smoke, she moved toward the front door and took the first step into the night, disappearing into the dark.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes, Oregon is full of magic mushrooms...yes, I can tell you what it's like.</p>
<p>No, I'm not going to get you some from my relatives...</p>
<p>Quotes by:<br/>Alan Olav Walker (and others)<br/>Jillian Rose Banks, Brandon Treyshun Campbell, &amp; Kevin Grant (GO LISTEN TO THIS SONG - Contaminated) </p>
<p>Song mentioned:<br/>Blinding by Florence + The Machine</p>
<p>This is the turning point...join me. Monika, your notes on this chapter were probably my favorite.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Power Over Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A loss of life, a loss of faith, a means to an end, and the hum of questionability in the air. Will Mulder and Scully put the pieces together before it’s just too late?</p>
<p>“You can’t choose what stays and what fades away.” – Florence Leontine Mary Welch &amp; Isabella Janet Florentina Summers</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning: Open discussion about suicide, varying degrees of torture, and cult behavior is mentioned in this fic. None of it is intended to harm or, otherwise, trigger the reader.</p>
<p>This is a serious issue, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is available to help. The lifeline provides 24/7, free and confidential support for people in distress, prevention and crisis resources for you or your loved ones, and best practices for professionals. Please, call 1-800-273-8255. Don’t stay silent. This might be “just a fic” but it holds real issues, with real consequences. Don’t suffer alone.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>But I know that time’s gonna take me</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I know that day’s gonna come</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I just want the devil to hate me</em>
</p>
<p>-Dermot Joseph Kennedy</p>
<p> </p>
<p>6:00 AM</p>
<p>Crescent Beach Trails</p>
<p>Cannon Beach, Oregon</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                “We’ve got company,” Officer Hutchens tilted his chin skyward, pointing at the circular array from above as glints of white, gray, and black continued to swarm just off to one side of their scene. “I’m going to need those tents up real fast or we’re going to have a problem.”</p>
<p>                “What in the hell is that?” Mulder was squinting against the cloud layer as they continued to move, their figures blurring together with every swoop.</p>
<p>                Scully’s vantage point was unobstructed as she barely looked up while narrowing her eyes. “Seagulls...and crows.”</p>
<p>                “What? Couldn’t complete the trifecta with a buzzard or two?” Mulder wanted the joke to land but the only person it inspired a laugh from was Whittaker.</p>
<p>                “They’re hoping we leave,” Officer Hutchens shook his head and continued. “The last thing I need is to chase a bunch of crows from the crime scene.”</p>
<p>                “The storm and the surf did a number on the scene this time around,” Officer Thea Connor was rubbing her temples, sand up to her knees as she shifted along the perimeter, her hand balancing against one of the rocks. “The fall was clean, though, near as I can tell.”</p>
<p>                “What do you mean <em>it was clean</em>?” Officer Hutchens was tipping the scales, his rage peeking out in the tone of his voice as he nearly took a tumble down against the body. “That doesn’t make any fucking sense, Connor. Walk the grid again. Get it right.”</p>
<p>                “Officer Hutchens, may I speak with you for a moment?” Scully had been studying the tone of his voice along with his actions while Mulder was busy at the top of the cliff with Whittaker and Hayes.</p>
<p>                Officer Thea Connor furrowed her brow at her superior as his shoulders slumped, knowing everyone had heard him raising his voice. Connor was smaller than the guys but she held her own as she continued to mark the scene, carefully linking red strings through unsteady sections of sand, as the tide went out. They were all under pressure. Hutchens was just taking it a little harder than the rest of them. It was written all over his face.</p>
<p>                “What is it, Agent Scully?” Hutchens crossed his arms and bent his knee as he unintentionally towered over her near a large, rounded section of rocks.</p>
<p>                Scully’s demeanor was rigid but open as she held her arms at her side, letting the breeze waft against her wrists as her hands dangled free. “I can’t help but notice you’re becoming increasingly agitated with this case and I can’t help but wonder why that might be? Is there something you need to tell me that might help with this case? The longer secrets are kept, the worse this situation becomes.”</p>
<p>                Hutchens sighed and looked skyward, staring at a gap in the cloud cover as the fleeting drops of rain slapped against his skin. “Off the record or do you have to put it in some kind of report what I say?”</p>
<p>                “The only information that needs to go in a report is if it’s pertinent to the case, such as the cause of death or what lead to a cause of death,” Scully shrugged her shoulders and tilted her head to one side, looking up at a man who was losing his grip on emotions as he wiped his palm across his face.</p>
<p>                “I don’t believe in any of this shit that these people believe in, Agent Scully,” Hutchens inhaled a deep breath and moved a little further away from the scene to avoid being heard by anyone but her. “It looks bad…it looks <em>real</em> bad.”</p>
<p>                Scully followed, the worry developing as she realized no one could even see them as they were behind a stacked, barnacle-covered, eroded cliff remnant. “What looks bad?”</p>
<p>                “Isabelle got married really young and, subsequently, was a widow a few short years later,” Hutchens had his cap between his fingers, his messy locks blowing in the breeze, the nerves rising. “She left town for a long time and came back to start over.”</p>
<p>                “I don’t see where this is problematic, Officer,” Scully wrinkled her nose and elevated a brow as he continued to circle the issue without fully committing to it. “How long were you sleeping together?”</p>
<p>                “I’m a married man,” Hutchens stammered, the sadness in his eyes as he took a breath and nearly vomited up the contents of his breakfast. “I didn’t think she’d come back and when she did—I’d settled for a marriage I didn’t want. It was as though she’d never left.”</p>
<p>                “You didn’t know she was pregnant and miscarried, did you?” Scully could hear it in his voice as she pushed a little further while his eyes went straight to the sand.</p>
<p>                “She never told me,” Hutchens shook his head and finally let a solitary tear fall as he glanced back out of paranoia. “I would’ve gotten a divorce for that woman in a heartbeat. She knew that…So did my wife.”</p>
<p>                Scully wanted to call it a hunch but it was more of an instinct and he’d confirmed an extreme scenario. Isabelle might’ve had more to live for despite the loss of the baby and Officer Hutchens was living proof of that. Scully couldn’t face down the idea that any of these women had jumped with any sort of intention. There was something that led them there. She hadn’t quite figured out what it might’ve been, but all of her wheels were spinning as Officer Hutchens composed himself and turned back toward the crime scene.</p>
<p>                Scully stopped him from taking another step as she heard him sniffle and watched the feverish wiping of a tear. “Officer Hutchens, none of that has to be put on record unless—”</p>
<p>                “I could never hurt Isabelle, Agent Scully,” Hutchens cut her off and forced a soft, labored smile as he put his wet cap back on, the bill barely shielding the top of his head. “I wouldn’t hurt anyone…Not like that.”</p>
<p>                Mulder wouldn’t have trusted his word but he was compelling. He was sincere. The hurt was in his voice and on his face in the dark circles from the absence of sleep. If Scully had to assume, she would have said he hadn’t been sleeping since Isabelle’s death. The torch remained unblemished and steadfast, even in her absence. He was carrying more than a burden even as he sauntered away to resume the work, taking orders from Hayes and Whittaker as both were inquiring about the side of the cliff.</p>
<p>                “What was that all about?” Mulder wasn’t always observant but he couldn’t help noticing the aloof glance as she met him in the middle and maneuvered close to the body.</p>
<p>                “Ruling out a potential suspect,” Scully snapped a pair of gloves on and met a scrutinizing, almost judging glance from her partner as she turned her head to look at him. “Trust me—He’s not good for this, Mulder.”</p>
<p>                “Going to explain it in detail later or are you going to make me <em>beg</em> for it?” Mulder asked the question loud enough that Hayes, at the very least, heard it, as an unmistakable smirk formed while Scully’s eyes almost popped out of her head.</p>
<p>                “I haven’t decided,” Scully didn’t know exactly where her mind was concerning Mulder and the double entendre, while intriguing, didn’t carry any weight yet as her eyes locked on Maria’s cold, dead hands. “The positioning is a little strange with this one. I’m not seeing nearly the same level of contorting of the limbs. It would’ve been a head over feet kind of fall even in last night’s storm.”</p>
<p>                “There’s not a lot of anything,” Mulder balanced on his toes and pushed the sand away from the side of the body, freeing the last of the seawater that had collected beneath her. “There might’ve been a bit of a splash when she hit. High tide, maybe?”</p>
<p>                “Changes time of death estimation and trajectory of body placement. We’re protecting a scene that has next to nothing left to protect,” Scully’s gloves slid across the sand as the steadiness of the beach became less reliable beneath her feet as the foam moved along a sunken crack. “Mulder, move your hand under her elbow and lift her hand out of the sand on the other side.”</p>
<p>                Mulder’s brow arched as he moved to the other side of the body, soaking his pants up to the knee as he braced against the wet sand to tug Maria’s trapped arm from beneath her body and the mound alongside her. “Is this your idea of putting me in my place for that joke or did you have a reason for making me need dry cleaning on the stupidly expensive slacks I’m wearing?”</p>
<p>                “Contrary to popular belief, the skill of being able to lift while I check limbs and digits with a slightly more delicate hand is valuable and the last thing we need to do is pull her arm out of the socket,” Scully moved the unaffected section of latex on her right hand across Maria’s wrist while Mulder held her arm in the air, the tiniest drops of water casting from the center of her palm from behind coiled fingers.</p>
<p>                “Noted,” Mulder was still preoccupied with the sensation of chilly water saturating his pants but the analytical half of his brain was diverting his attention to the flecks of black pushing through the gaps against Maria’s palm. “Scully, you were looking for something, weren’t you? It wasn’t just the necessity for my strength…but rather my balance so you could check for what Crime Scene hadn’t?”</p>
<p>                Scully already had an evidence bag out while she pushed a gap between Maria’s digits and her palm, freeing the rosary from the deep clutches of rigor. “It was a safe bet to assume that if our prior victims had been holding one that this one would also have had one…and I was right.”</p>
<p>                “This doesn’t change anything, though, Scully,” Mulder could see the look in her eyes and knew where she was going with it as he lowered his voice, delivering the blow. “This looks like a suicide. It doesn’t look like a murder.”</p>
<p>                “That’s what makes this so wrong,” Scully was almost angry as she slipped the rosary into the evidence bag and indicated a film around Maria’s mouth, the subtlest shade of green glimmering in the light as she spoke. “There has been a struggle with every death but hers. What changed? What made her different? It can’t be that simple, Mulder.”</p>
<p>                “You’re getting too close to the victims, Scully,” Mulder was toeing the line, approaching words that he couldn’t take back as he felt every bit of her aggravation renewing in the form of a heated stare. “I know it’s disappointing but we both have to look at this one a little more objectively. It isn’t about anything but the evidence and it always has been.”</p>
<p>                Scully felt the collapse of her confidence as she used one of her gloves to collect residue from the edge of Maria’s lip as she tore her eyes away from looking directly at him. “One day, when balking at a theory that isn’t yours, you’re going to have to realize that you do more damage to a case because you think giving an inch is going to circumvent you being the one to think beyond the scope of normalcy.”</p>
<p>                “You’re taking this to a whole new level of personal, aren’t you?” Mulder mimicked her movement as he rose from the sand and yanked his boots loose from the sunken grade as she sealed the discarded glove in an evidence bag.</p>
<p>                “It doesn’t look good on you that you’ve spent years trying to convince me to be open and the moment I do…” Scully sidestepped the scene and invaded his personal space, putting herself right into his bubble to glare up at him. “You can’t resist the urge to snuff it out.”</p>
<p>                Mulder’s shoulders slumped and his chin dropped as the truth buried deep within her words struck him in the darker places of his soul while he struggled with his footing. “It isn’t that…”</p>
<p>                “Then what is it?” Scully was moving away from him, the displeasure in her body language as she turned around, continuing flippantly. “I need to take these to be sent out so make it quick.”</p>
<p>                “Blindly protecting you from hollow causes thinking it was keeping you safer that way,” Mulder knew how selfish it sounded before he could even get it all of the way out of his mouth, but it was the truth. “It’s happened one too many times without you taking a risk.”</p>
<p>                Scully took a step forward toward him as she tightened her jaw to control her volume, narrowing her eyes at him, “It isn’t your job to protect me. It’s to solve this right along with me; I’ll be damned if you think I’m not strong enough to survive whatever is thrown at me.”</p>
<p>                Mulder took the brunt of her anger in stride and watched her move toward the line of squad units near the top of the hill. “Where are you going?”</p>
<p>                Scully didn’t say a word in response; she simply jiggled the evidence bags in the air and continued to move further away from her partner.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>10:30 AM</p>
<p>Old Cannon Beach Rd</p>
<p>Cannon Beach, OR</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                The road forked off at 6<sup>th</sup> Street and wound along Old Cannon Beach Road, running parallel to the Oregon Coast Highway through the trees. Scully shouldn’t have taken the risk of following Felecia and Emmaline into the hills but it was too late to go back. Something wasn’t right and the further into the grim, winding thicket Scully ventured, the more that it was painfully evident that she was in over her head. The grade became steep as she pushed the gas in the rental and turned into the drive of one of the larger homes hidden behind a rise of evergreens. The urge to turn around, make a hasty exit, was chewing at Scully but she resisted as she turned the keys, killing the engine.</p>
<p>                It was something right out of a horror novel as the mist crawled through the air and clung to every branch, every corner, every object.</p>
<p>                “Shit,” Scully glanced at the display on her phone, at the emboldened <em>no signal</em> across the top before the light disappeared. “Of course.”</p>
<p>                It was barely mid-morning and yet the dark clung to the drive as the thick layer of fog mocked floating smoke. Mulder had offered to go with her three different times and she’d refused them all. The third denial of his company had distinct undertones of something else, though, and she knew that her overwhelming urge to prove him wrong had taken over. Even as her boots sank into the unsettled gravel and deep, muddy puddles, the sick feeling in her stomach was growing. This had been a bad decision and turning around to leave should have been her priority.</p>
<p>                “This is good and pleases God, our Savior,” Emmaline’s voice was monotone in the air, above a hum of indecipherable melodies and drumming, in the distance. “Who wants all people to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth. They must follow. They must bend.”</p>
<p>                “Those aren’t the words to that scripture,” Scully couldn’t help but mutter it as she stalked the shrubbery, moving around the edge of the house, concealing herself as best as she could from the vantage of windows. “What is going on up here?”</p>
<p>                “For it is God’s will that you should silence them,” Emmaline further butchered the first book of Peter and mewled as a loud snap reverberated through the canyon.</p>
<p>                The sound was reminiscent of lightning contained in a smaller area. It sent a shiver down Scully’s back as she ducked down, muddying her palms at the base of the line of shrubs. The drumming and the drone of feminine voices began to quiet before silencing entirely, returning the hillside to a foreboding stillness. It didn’t last long, though, as the heavy pattern of footsteps moving across a deck and onto the gravel pathway had Scully holding her breath. It was at least five different sets of feet and they were prattling on about learning a lesson as they passed the same hedge she was hiding behind.</p>
<p>                Scully glanced back at where she’d left the rental and sighed softly as only a section of the front plate stuck out beyond the bend at the entrance.</p>
<p>                “You’re only in charge when your fiancé is not present,” A raspy voice she hadn’t heard before lingered at the edge of the house while the others continued to grow distant. “<em>Sister</em>.”</p>
<p>                “In this house, you will follow my rules, <em>sister</em>,” The second voice belonged to Kara and the polite, sweet voice from the Hotel had all but disappeared as the words were cut with the distinct sound of a slap that accompanied the threat. “The FBI already chose their path and you will fall in line or end up spending a little while reconditioning, do you <em>understand</em> me?”</p>
<p>                “It is his will and I will follow, sister,” The rasp was mellowed, defeated even, as her voice moved with the sound of shifting rocks.</p>
<p>                “<em>Sarah</em>, do not forget that you have benefited greatly from this and I’m not asking you to fall in line. I’m telling you,” Kara’s tone was pointed as she purposely used the woman’s name to drive the illustration home, stopping the woman in her tracks. “Let his will be done and I will follow, sister.”</p>
<p>                Scully peered around the edge of the shrubbery, watching the women in their uniformly designed garments, as they continued down a path in the grass. There was a chance she’d be caught if they saw the rental but none of them drove and they were all disappearing into the trees like ciphers as they shielded perfectly pinned hair from the droplets of rain. It couldn’t have looked more menacing as their dark cloaks faded into nothing. Scully continued to sink into the mud and rock as she watched Sarah and Kara follow the group significantly further behind, absent hoods and less concerned with their appearance as the rain began to dot along the tops of their heads. It was as though Scully were witnessing a modern-day coven, but she didn’t know what to make of them.</p>
<p>                “The time I need backup,” Scully turned toward the dip at the back of the house, following the line of manicured bushes until they wrapped around the deck. “Out of the frying pan and into the fire.”</p>
<p>                The deck was covered and framed with screen and creeping vines, almost to the point of blacking out the interior. It was dark and Scully had her trepidations about trespassing until the subtle glow of embers caught her eye from the center of the structure. Scully had her hand on her weapon as the hair stood on end and every muscle twitched as she slowly rose, straightening her spine. It might’ve been enough not to take that first step but curiosity swelled as the stairs squeaked beneath her feet. Scully hesitated at the top of the railing and peeked through the gaps in the blinds, gaining a semblance of an assurance that she was alone.</p>
<p>                It didn’t quiet the thunderous quaking of her heart against her sternum as she continued across the smoothed surface of sealant and sandstone paint.</p>
<p>                The dying coals came from a circular firepit, the chimney angled up, wrapped around a beam before pushing through the roofing. It was partially open with the small, clouded doors pushed wide to reveal the dip in the rounded hearth. The orange and yellow glow lured Scully in as she reached for the metal rod to push the glowing embers apart. Her awareness was painfully heightened as she glanced over her shoulder only once, making sure she was alone. Her periphery flickered the rising light as the flames licked up and revealed a singular fold of paper in the center of the jagged sections of burnt wood.</p>
<p>                Subliminally, Scully wanted to let it go, but she used the poker to drag it to the edge before freeing it from a quick death by flame.</p>
<p>                “What do we have here?” Scully smacked the edges, snuffing out the last-ditch effort for the oxygen to set it ablaze as she unfolded the gently.</p>
<p>
  <em>                Maria Rhiannon Schmidt. We revoke. We rebuke. We exile.</em>
</p>
<p>                It read like an incantation but it was so much more than that as the singed calligraphy read like the pages of a scorned teenager’s diary. Scully swallowed hard at the prospect and pushed iron through the center of the hearth, dragging it around in a fruitless attempt to find another page. She found nothing but more ashes. It had been a while since it had been swept out. It smelled like an accelerant, pitch, and paper above the burned remains of pine and oak. Scully suddenly wished nothing more than to have Mulder at her side to be the voice of opposition as the hair stood on end while the sound of clanging metal grated on her ears.</p>
<p>                “Come on, come on, come on,” Scully feverishly checked her phone and pushed the paper into the confines of her coat, doing her best not to destroy it as she turned her attention to the phone instead. “Son of a bitch.”</p>
<p>                Scully had managed to find the pocket of the hillside with no cellphone service and the sound coming from inside the house had her red flags raised. It was muffled, just loud enough to be heard, and reminiscent of a storm door slamming repeatedly in the wind. Scully’s chin tilted toward the sliding glass door just feet away, tucked behind a stack of firewood, and knew something was amiss. The noise continued as she crouched just beyond the stack, concealing herself in the space against the exterior wall. The phone was useless but the gun at her hip was ready as she scrutinized the planks before her.</p>
<p>                It was then that the deep, gash like drag marks in the sandy finish of the deck was unavoidable and they extended from the stairs to the sliding door.</p>
<p>                “Mulder would do it,” Scully already had her hand on the door, hesitating to leap even as she pulled it open enough to more than move beyond the threshold.</p>
<p>                Scully inhaled another breath, shoving the last of her apprehension down deep as she drew her weapon and placed half of her body inside. She straddled the track and directed her back against the archway, training the barrel through the house from her downward point of view. It was a split-level with one of those drop-down living spaces. High arches and support beams hid very little from the front entrance that lay nestled at the opposite side of the house. Scully cleared every corner before fully straightening her legs to maneuver down a hall.</p>
<p>                The absence of light should’ve been her first clue not to go in.</p>
<p>                “I won’t do it again, I promise,” the sound of Emmaline’s downtrodden voice carried toward Scully and preceded the sound of metal on metal. “Please! Let me out! Sister! I didn’t mean it!”</p>
<p>                Scully’s eyes widened as she continued down the hall, passing open doors with single beds set up and cages pressed against the footboards. They were far too large for a pet. They were meant to accommodate a person. Scully shook her head and continued toward the source of the sound at the end of the hall, to a door propped open just enough for the brisk air to surge free. The scattered whimpers and cries mingled and clashed with the repeated striking of metal even as she swung the door back.</p>
<p>                The house carefully concealed a basement behind a thick, metal door, and it was so dark at the bottom of the stairs.</p>
<p>                “Shit,” Scully needed backup but she had no choice as her foot touched the first steps.</p>
<p>                The descent alleviated none of Scully’s worries; it gave her new ones. She reached the bottom and felt the chill of the cement radiating against the bottom of her boots. It smelled like metal, running water, and the distinct odor of blood. It took only a moment to grow accustomed to the dim as she steadied her gun and pulled the pocket light from her coat, carefully aiming it toward each corner. The silence echoed, amplified, and collided with her breaths as she moved around the corner. She would have been able to give an all-clear if she hadn’t pivoted toward the final section of the massive space, shining a light on Emmaline’s frightened face.</p>
<p>                “Oh my God,” Scully holstered her weapon and lowered the beam as she approached the locked cage, watching as Emmaline darted to the back corner. “Emmaline, let me get you out of here.”</p>
<p>                “You shouldn’t have come,” Emmaline was soaked to the bone but the sheen of fresh blood was evident through the wet clothes as Scully aimed the flashlight at the floor, at a smear of blood. “You shouldn’t have. You need to go. You can’t be here. It’s too late.”</p>
<p>                Scully went to reach for a nearby wrench as thick, dark, felt material of a hood slid across her face and tightened around her neck. She kicked, swung both arms in either direction, sending the flashlight flying across the floor, spinning until it went dark. Emmaline coiled her fingers around the wrapped chain that kept her prisoner as she listened to Scully’s frantic attempts to fight. It was useless in the nearly dark basement, though, as the muted grunt preceded a distinctive, pronounced thud. The heavy footsteps replaced the silence while the rusted cry of a metal fixture swinging back sent Emmaline into a tailspin, where she hid her eyes and plugged her ears.</p>
<p>                This was only the beginning of something worse.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>1:00 PM</p>
<p>Medical Examiner’s Office</p>
<p>Cannon Beach, Oregon</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                “Agent Mulder, she’s not inside,” Hayes let the door swing closed as she came back out, the elements swirling around in the air as she made eye contact with Mulder. “She hasn’t been here since shortly after she left the crime scene this morning.”</p>
<p>                Mulder’s guilt was working him over and he was repeatedly dialing her number just to hear her voice on the greeting. “Her phone is going straight to voicemail.”</p>
<p>                “It either means she’s got it off or it’s out of range,” Whittaker crossed his arms and glanced at his watch as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Does she have a habit of disappearing?”</p>
<p>                “No, that’s usually me that does this sort of thing,” Mulder could already hear her chastising him for being concerned but he didn’t give a shit as the seconds continued to tick by. “She’s usually the one that communicates what she’s doing, where she’s going, and how long she’s going to be there. This isn’t normal. Something isn’t right.”</p>
<p>                “She did seem a little miffed earlier,” Hayes pointed out the obvious and watched Mulder’s shoulders slump as though she’d just wounded him with that comment.</p>
<p>                “Even when she’s pissed off,” Mulder stared at the pavement, the sick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach as he recollected every worst-case scenario in a single breath. “She doesn’t just…go off without communicating. This isn’t like her.”</p>
<p>                Mulder didn’t want to utter that he’d chased after Scully in the dark more than once. He didn’t want to say it out loud that he’d gotten there too late and nearly lost her already. It was pulling at his soul and Scully’s face in his mind was getting the best of him. She put herself at risk because of him and it was tugging at the remaining control he had over emotional balance as he gripped the bridge of his nose. They couldn’t fathom the depths that his psyche was sinking into and he didn’t want them to.</p>
<p>                “Try calling her again,” Whittaker went for the door of the SUV and dug his cell phone from the center console. “I’ll try to get a hold of Officer Hutchens.”</p>
<p>                “Come on, come on, Scully,” Mulder tilted his chin skyward and heard the beep in his ear after her voice rattled through him. “Scully, I don’t know how many messages I’ve left. Where are you?”</p>
<p>                “The service out here is spotty, at best,” Hayes was a little bit physically closer to Mulder as she nudged him in the elbow, trying to get him not to think about the worst-case scenario. “I’m sure she’s just doing what we should be doing…looking for clues.”</p>
<p>                Mulder held his breath and grappled with the words as he made eye contact with Hayes, the consternation written in his eyes. “There isn’t a limit to what I’d do to protect her and I don’t even think she realizes it.”</p>
<p>                The future wife in Hayes took over as she crossed her arms and lowered her voice, hoping he’d understand the tone. “…maybe you should fix that.”</p>
<p>                “Mulder,” Whittaker stepped back onto the sidewalk, his eyebrows aimed straight up and the color all but absent from his skin while he palmed his mouth for a moment. “…Hutchens beat me to the punch on that phone call.”</p>
<p>                “Is everything okay?” Mulder’s tone elevated, his breaths coming out in frenzied bursts as he put his phone away. “Whittaker, is Scully okay?”</p>
<p>                “Hutchens found the rental on Old Cannon Beach Road near the junction to Highway 101,” Whittaker was circling the point and trailing unnecessarily as Mulder’s facial expressions began to degrade before his eyes. “…the car was on fire.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Quotes by:<br/>Florence Leontine Mary Welch &amp; Isabella Janet Florentina Summers<br/>Dermot Joseph Kennedy</p>
<p>I apologize for nothing...the cliffhanger is necessary. You'll appreciate it.</p>
<p>Monika's comments on this chapter were also apt for the subject matter. Appreciated and entertaining, highly.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Fractus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mulder contemplates the worst as Scully’s life hangs in the balance—and a new thread of horror emerges as faith and heart are pushed to the breaking point.</p>
<p>“Today my forest is dark. The trees are sad and all the butterflies have broken wings…” – Deblina Halder</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Fractus is Latin for broken<br/>Isaiah 4:4/James 2:19/John 14:6/Colossians 3:5</p>
<p>Warning: Open discussion about suicide, varying degrees of torture, and cult behavior is mentioned in this fic. None of it is intended to harm or, otherwise, trigger the reader. This chapter will describe, in detail, the varying degrees of torture that one would experience during forced imprisonment. It is accurate to multiple cults and was treated with care regarding the subject matter. Please note that it might be disturbing.</p>
<p>This is a serious issue, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is available to help. The lifeline provides 24/7, free and confidential support for people in distress, prevention and crisis resources for you or your loved ones, and best practices for professionals. Please, call 1-800-273-8255. Don’t stay silent. This might be “just a fic” but it holds real issues, with real consequences. Don’t suffer alone.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>All you have is your fire<br/>And the place you need to reach<br/>Don't you ever tame your demons<br/>But always keep 'em on a leash</em>
</p>
<p>-Andrew Hozier Byrne</p>
<p> </p>
<p>1:15 PM</p>
<p>Old Cannon Beach Road</p>
<p>Cannon Beach, Oregon</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                The thick, black smoke could be seen for miles. It spiraled up and spun as the wind directed it into the trees, into the thicket. The drive was tense, marred by slick road conditions, and the occasional slow car that had to be maneuvered around. Mulder wanted to vomit before he could see the flames licking the atmosphere, dancing desperately in the swirl of oxygen. His head was spinning and his stomach was rolling as Whittaker parked behind Hutchens’s SUV with the red and blues still flashing overhead.</p>
<p>                Mulder wanted to know everything but he didn’t want to know if it meant that she had been inside.</p>
<p>                “Please tell me she wasn’t inside,” Mulder barely made eye contact with Hutchens as he slid out of the car, looking past him at the pressurized spray of water from the hose into the cabin of the car. “Hutchens!”</p>
<p>                The remaining fuel in the car finally went, sending a thunderous blast of debris, smoke, and fire into the air. The firefighters were knocked backward but managed to stay on their feet while Hutchens and Mulder stood face to face. The horror took over as Mulder became desperate to cross the yellow tape but met the officer’s unrelenting stance as he grasped his shoulders to hold him back. There hadn’t been confirmation and it was killing Mulder. The last thing he needed was to hear that she’d been in that blaze.</p>
<p>                “Agent Mulder, stop!” Hutchens finally shouted and shook him as another fire engine rounded the corner, lights and sirens wailing. “She wasn’t in the car…we don’t know how it got here but she wasn’t in the car.”</p>
<p>                Mulder dropped to his knees, overcome by every emotion as they bubbled to the surface all at once. It would have been more of a relief to know Scully wasn’t in the rental but the reality had hit that she was still missing and the last interaction he’d had with her was an argument. Mulder couldn’t help but feel responsible for every second of it, right down to the consuming worry of not knowing where she was. It was breaking him apart inside and the lasting image that was tearing him asunder was the way she looked the night before. Mulder wanted nothing more than to get that back and make it right.</p>
<p>                Time was already screeching to a halt and Mulder could feel it tugging at his heart with every passing second.</p>
<p>                “The car didn’t just appear out of thin air, Hutchens,” Mulder picked himself up and waved his hand toward the lingering flames, at the mangled frame as the fire continued to twist it. “Did they find anything that would lead anywhere?”</p>
<p>                “It was empty,” Hutchens lowered his voice and led him away from the scene, toward Hayes and Whittaker as they were still near the SUV with fingers over their lips in terror. “The only thing in the car were the keys. The call came in and the engine got here just as the interior went up.”</p>
<p>                “Would lead one to believe that the 9-1-1 call went out before the fire was set,” Mulder’s voice was hollow, far away, consumed by the urge to look directly at the inferno unfolding on the double yellow lines. “It doesn’t narrow it down but it raises suspicions…”</p>
<p>                “Who would know more than anyone about what is going on out here?” Hayes had her fingers through her hair, grasping at her scalp as the heat from the fire radiated far enough back that they could all feel it. “Think about it.”</p>
<p>                “Pastor Burton is the only option we have and he is the only man that might talk about the shit that goes on out here,” Whittaker captured Mulder’s attention and gripped his shoulder, nodding as the wind changed direction and dragged the smoke toward them. “We’re not going to stop until we find Agent Scully.”</p>
<p>                “What if he doesn’t?” Mulder was panicking as he looked at the hollowed-out remnant of the car as the color had turned black and the final piece of chrome twisted into something unrecognizable. “What if he decides that it just isn’t worth it?”</p>
<p>                “If you want him to talk,” Hutchens couldn’t stay silent any longer as he turned, the rain dripping off of the front of his service cap only to hit him in the lip as the gusts picked back up. “…just ask him to do it for Lila Leanne. He won’t be able to say <em>no</em>.”</p>
<p>               </p>
<p>               </p>
<p>1:45 PM</p>
<p>Old Cannon Beach Rd</p>
<p>Cannon Beach, OR</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                It was cold, dark, and wet. Everything stunk of mildew, burnt wood, kerosene, and the lingering, foreboding scent of singed flesh. The concept of time had fallen away and Scully no longer knew how long she’d been there. The cement beneath her knees bit into her pants, chewing away at the fabric as she scooted from corner to corner, silently hoping that the metal would give. Her whimpers began to echo and the walls, as expansive as they were, felt as though they were closing in with every breath. Panic clashed with the urge to fight as Scully fruitlessly banged her fingers against the cage, rattling it until the sound competed with her cries.</p>
<p>                “Let me out!” Scully shouted despite the burn down her throat and the soreness in her lungs as her limbs began to shake, her volume only increasing as she was met with silence. “I can fucking hear you breathing, you asshole!”</p>
<p>                The hollow echo of water dripping and scattered, open-mouthed exhales contributed to that wracking, unpleasant sensation of expansion and contraction of Scully’s surroundings. Scully throttled both feet against the opening and felt the sting of steel as it pushed against bare soles. They’d taken her boots and her socks robbed her of another method of staying warm, protected, capable of fighting harder. The cold chills might’ve been the worst thing, though, as the gooseflesh traveled up her limbs and settled down her back, reminding her of how quickly she’d begin to lose sensations. It couldn’t go like this; she wasn’t going to give up without a fight.</p>
<p>                “I swear to God, you’re going to pay for this when I get out! <em>Son of a bitch,</em> let me out!” Scully could already hear the rasp in her voice and the hot sting of tears down her cheeks as she squinted in the dark, desperate to see. “You can’t keep me here!”</p>
<p>                The shuffling of shoes against the flooring had Scully spiraling as she held both arms out, pushing her fingers through the gaps in her confines in an attempt to make noise. She shook, the rage swelling as the small structure swayed around her aimlessly but refused to budge. The floor shuddered and a guttural moan reverberated before the unceremonious spray of water doused from a fixture in the ceiling. Scully went silent as the frigid liquid soaked her from the top of her head down, cascading over every inch of her body despite her best efforts to cocoon into one corner. All it did was delay the inevitable as she felt the spray change direction followed by the snap of a hose as it was pulled into place.</p>
<p>                The second dose slapped against the center of her back and inveigled a low wail out of her as she moved toward the center of her prison.</p>
<p>                “When the Lord has washed away the filth of the daughters of Zion and purged the blood shed of Jerusalem from her midst, by the spirit of judgment and the spirit of burning,” Aiden’s monotone, emotionless voice was barely audible over the top of the unrelenting bursts from the water hose as Scully continued to choke on the directional spout to her face. “…then the Lord will create over the whole area of Mount Zion and over her assemblies a cloud by day, even smoke, and the brightness of a flaming fire by night…for over all the glory will be a canopy.”</p>
<p>                “Please, stop,” Scully didn’t recognize the sound of her voice as the sobs blended into the gasps for air while she wrapped her arms around her face in desperation as it became impossible to breathe. “I can’t…breathe…Please stop.”</p>
<p>                “You are the unclean, the unholy,” Aiden snapped his fingers and the water stopped but his voice stayed even keel as he walked a circle around the cage, keeping his eyes up. “You are a trespasser; you have abandoned God…God has abandoned you.”</p>
<p>                Scully kept her arms across her face as the fight or flight mechanism within her twisted and lashed out a second time. The scream was loud, emanated from her gut, and bounced off the walls as she thrashed both of her feet against the inside of the cage. Aiden didn’t flinch. He barely reacted to the movement, the sound, the trauma that he was inflicting. He was used to it and there was no reason to care about a stranger’s feelings or bodily harm that might come to her. It was inconsequential and she was in the way.</p>
<p>                “Even the demons believe, Dana,” Aiden finally drew Scully from the shield she’d created for herself as the silence resumed and the tears cascaded down her cheeks. “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.”</p>
<p>                “Spouting scripture out of order isn’t going to break me, you bastard,” Scully was perched on her haunches, the ache of being saturated with ice-cold water settling into her bones as she pushed her fingers through the gaps for balance.</p>
<p>                “It will,” Emmaline’s voice came from the left and was muddled by a wheeze as she caught Scully unaware. “It is the way…it is the truth…it is… life. Bend…give in…break.”</p>
<p>                “Emmaline?” Scully squinted into the dark, barely making out the hunched over a silhouette of the woman as the gooseflesh worked its way down her back.</p>
<p>                “Bend…give in…break,” Emmaline’s voice was almost as monotone as Aiden’s as she stared straight forward, refusing to look at Scully. “I will be cleansed. I will be whole again.”</p>
<p>                Scully was sick, confused, and had no control of the emotions as they swirled through her consciousness. The darkness dulled her sense of sight but flipped the switch as smell, sound, and touch became almost too much to bear. The distinct odor of blood crawled across her nostrils, biting at the nerve endings until Scully wanted nothing more than to slip into hysteria. Numbness set in and the electric sensation of pins and needles set fire to her skin as the cage pushed against her. There would have been no way of knowing if she had gashed a section of skin open and it instilled a vulnerability that she refused to display.</p>
<p>                “Your thoughts are clouded. Just one of the many reasons you’re here,” Aiden knelt, flashing light in Scully’s eyes for a long moment until he knew he had pushed her a little further off the ledge toward disorientation. “You know you’re too far gone, Dana.”</p>
<p>                “You don’t even know me,” Scully’s eyes blinked away the spots in her field of vision as she tried to locate his face to glare at him. “…you’re not inside my head and never will be.”</p>
<p>                “That’s where you’re wrong, Dana,” Aiden snapped his fingers over his head and continued to speak over the shuffling of feet from the other side of the room, his tone grating on Scully’s ears as he stood above the cage. “Every lost, desperate lamb is the same…you’re just like them, Dana. You can’t be saved but you can repent.”</p>
<p>                “Screw you,” Scully’s voice trembled and she drew her knees to her chest, hugging the last of her dwindling body heat until it was nothing more than a remnant at her core.</p>
<p>                “You’ll just be here, waiting on another absolution that just won’t come,” Aiden’s voice seamlessly blended with another stream of water from above as it thrashed her like sideways rain in the middle of winter. “Pray.”</p>
<p>                The sound that came from Scully’s lungs was shrill and hoarse as she struggled for air while evading the deluge of water against her arms, face, and legs. “Why are you doing this?”</p>
<p>                “You’ll know soon enough,” Another snap of his fingers and the water dulled to a drip while he moved to the back of the cage, grazing his fingers through her hair as she pressed herself against the cold gridlines. “It must be dawning on you by now,  no one is coming to save you, Dana. You are a lost cause, much like that cross you wear around your neck.”</p>
<p>                “Bastard,” Scully pulled her hair away from the edges and pressed her fingers against her scalp while her limbs vibrated from the glacial frost working through her veins.</p>
<p>                “Misguided, misdirected, misaligned…you’ll break eventually and your eyes will open,” Aiden rattled the cage and splattered a few droplets across Scully’s cheek as she steadied herself against the wire. “You will know that the devil doesn’t wear black, Dana.”</p>
<p>                “Why are you still talking?” Scully’s voice was small but pointed and hearing his voice was wearing on the last of her nerves as she looked up from the curve of her arm. “You are holding a Federal Agent prisoner—you know this doesn’t end well for you, right?”</p>
<p>                Aiden had been waiting for the right moment to sink the blade into her and twist as the room went still and the stream slowed to a drip against the back of her head. “You know your partner isn’t looking for you. He doesn’t need you.”</p>
<p>                Scully wanted to scream and mute the sound of his voice but she shrank further into the corner, diminishing like a wilted flower. Aiden had found the right set of buttons to push as he tilted the beam of light at her face, strobing the white light until Scully could do nothing but sink to the cement. Aiden had found the right source of her torment and exploiting it to its fullest had perked his interest as he dragged the steel against steel, thudding the sound above her. Aiden kept the light on Scully’s face even as she did her best to shroud it again, the stark, white light dilating her pupils as she stared at the dips in the cement. She wanted to be anywhere but there as her bones began to cry out.</p>
<p>                “Please, let me go,” Scully was almost fetal as she held her knees close to her body, sobbing hot tears into the stream of blistering cold below. “You don’t have to keep me here.”</p>
<p>                “Put to death therefore what is earthly in you,” Aiden towered above the cage, rattling the structure as the lights above Emmaline’s imprisonment blinked on, illuminating her as he continued his diatribe. “Sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry.”</p>
<p>                “You are not my priest,” Scully was conflicted even as the tears streamed down her face and her fists met the top of the cage, hoping to move him back. “You are barely fit for leading a children’s Sunday School class let alone deliver a sermon.”</p>
<p>                “Oh, that’s where you’re wrong, Dana,” Aiden lifted his chin and made a singular gesture toward the wall as his silent assistance pulled Emmaline from the neighboring cage. “You have to bear witness to understand my reach. You’re not worth the demonstration of pain but our sister…she’ll endure so that you might see. Keep your eyes open, Dana. Do not make her suffering be in vain.”</p>
<p>                “What are you doing?” Scully wound her fingers around the cold steel, her lips trembling as Emmaline’s limp figure was pressed against a St. Andrew’s cross until she was strapped into place. “Stop…You don’t need to hurt her to get me to listen. I am attentive—all eyes and ears. I have no other choice; don’t you see that?”</p>
<p>                “That’s not how this works, Dana,” Aiden knew he had her captivated for all of the wrong reasons as the light hovered just above Emmaline’s already flayed open back, the glistening of each slash finally visible as she flinched. “Your eyes are closed and your ears have only absorbed the word of false prophets that would covet my position. You will learn by not being able to intervene.”</p>
<p>                The snap of leather against skin and the hollowed cry that followed sent a jolt through Scully as she barely turned her head to witness the aftermath. Emmaline’s chin angled skyward and her fingers grasped at the air, contorting as the ripple of pain worked through her. Scully was halfway to primal as she flailed both fists against the iron, clanging until her skin was nearly raw and her throat burned from the shouting. Scully didn’t even recognize the sound of her voice as she protested on Emmaline’s behalf as the lashes overlapped one after another. The leather ripped through partially healed flesh and spattered the crimson across the walls and the ceiling, narrowly missing Scully as it arced backward.</p>
<p>                It was more than anyone could bear and Emmaline’s mouth only uttered a single phrase in refrain.</p>
<p>
  <em>                I am unfit, I am unworthy, I am unclean…I will shed my skin for my sisters and brothers.</em>
</p>
<p>                “Mother fucker, stop it!” Scully kicked the corner of the cage and felt the ache of her bones as the temperature was settling in and taking over. “I said, stop it.”</p>
<p>                “You will remain docile, Dana,” Aiden’s voice cooed before the haze of blue popped against Scully’s side, sizzling through her until she jolted backward and swallowed a scream. “You will bear witness.”</p>
<p>                Aiden had pushed a cattle prod through the gaps in the metal and introduced Scully’s wet skin to the voltage, nearly causing her to pass out. Scully scrambled away from him in a feeble attempt to evade another strike, her fingers pressed against the contact burn while it sizzled a section of her ribs. The sound wouldn’t leave her lips until the blue, buzzing light pressed against her right kneecap for the briefest of moments. Scully finally screamed as she curled into the fetal position and let agony swarm through veins. The pain was indescribable as Scully stared up through a flood of tears at a delighted smile.</p>
<p>                “Please, don’t,” Scully could see him moving the prod along the top of the cage, taunting her with little motions past the iron. “I’ll do what you asked…just stop.”</p>
<p>                Aiden bent at the waist, training the business end of the cattle prod toward Scully, cold and unfeeling despite the threat of violence. “…this is only the beginning.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>2:30 PM</p>
<p>890 Ecola Park Rd</p>
<p>Cannon Beach, Oregon</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                “You can’t fly off the handle, Mulder,” Hayes could hear Mulder’s fingers tapping the backseat armrest as they pulled into the long, winding drive to Pastor Burton’s home. “It’s not going to do Scully any good.”</p>
<p>                “I don’t need anyone policing my mouth or my actions while Scully is missing,” Mulder’s voice was just above a whisper as he stared at the gray line on the horizon, at the brewing storm just off the coastline.</p>
<p>                Mulder couldn’t let the image of the rental burning to a crisp go and there was something steadfast building within him as he tried to hold out hope. Whittaker had kept quiet, letting Mulder mull it over in the backseat while Hayes tried to keep the peace. The urge to grip optimism by the neck often leaned into one of her more bad habits even if it regularly provided levity in the dark times. It wasn’t doing that now and she knew it. Mulder’s concentrated look provided more than enough proof of that as they pulled into the drive.</p>
<p>                Pastor Burton must’ve known they were coming as he was already standing on the porch, ready to greet them.</p>
<p>                “You aren’t here for good news, are you?” The Pastor’s candor was refreshing but his stoic stance was prepared, guarded, and closed off as he crossed his arms in front of Mulder.</p>
<p>                “My partner is missing and I know you know more than you let on,” Mulder had never been that close to losing his composure as he held onto the railing, closing the distance between them without a second thought. “…if you ever had a hesitation about helping us, you shouldn’t now.”</p>
<p>                “I don’t think I can be of any help to you or your partner,” Pastor Burton pressed his lips together as the revelation rekindled the old worries within him. “Nothing that I haven’t already divulged to you.”</p>
<p>                “I had a feeling you’d say that,” Mulder encroached on the diminishing personal space between them, utilizing the trigger that Officer Hutchens had given him. “Please, just find it within yourself to do it for Lila Leanne and I know that name means everything to you.”</p>
<p>                A flicker of sadness collided with remembrance and rooted anger as Pastor Burton’s spine went rigid and his voice cracked. “what do you know about Lila Leanne and who would bring her up to you?”</p>
<p>                “Hutchens knew that you are the only one that could tip the scales and lead us in the right direction,” Mulder knew it must’ve been incredibly personal but he couldn’t care as Scully’s face was in his thoughts again, haunting him. “We need your help. I need your help.”</p>
<p>                “She was my daughter, Agent Mulder, and she suffered the same fate as all of these young women,” Pastor Burton gestured to the front door, pulling back the storm door until it creaked. “I don’t know how much it’ll help but I’ll tell you and show you everything I remember.”</p>
<p>                “We’re not asking you for the world, Pastor,” Whittaker found the profoundness after a lengthy silence, his face pale and expression withdrawn. “We’re just asking for a link to bring back one of our own before the worst occurs.”</p>
<p>                The three agents moved past Pastor Burton as he held the screen open, his hands visibly shaking as his eyes cast down toward the floor. There was an indication that he’d long buried this part of his life as the air became heavy with the unintentional slam of the screen door. Mulder’s eyes were everywhere, scanning the photographs, the understated religious regalia along the walls, and finally saw the smiling face of the woman that he assumed was Lila Leanne. His focus took over and he knew, without hesitation, exactly why Pastor Burton had spent so long running from it. The cult had taken away his child and he knew, deep down, the death sentence had Aiden’s name written on it.</p>
<p>                “I had done my best to shield her from a life that surrounded Aiden but intention does nothing when a headstrong young woman wants nothing more than to do the opposite,” Pastor Burton stood beside Mulder and reached for the photograph from her senior year of high school, the perfect smile shining through the dusty glass as he held it in his hands. “I knew that boy was bad news…but she didn’t understand that a liar will do anything to get their way.”</p>
<p>                “Love and listening skills rarely go hand in hand,” Mulder’s voice was soft as he watched the Pastor’s fingers wipe away the thin layer of dust across the glass, illuminating her bright, blue eyes a little more. “What happened?”</p>
<p>                Pastor Burton sniffed the air and put the photograph back on the mantle, the slight crackling of the fire at their knees as he composed himself. “What happens every time Aiden sinks his hooks into a woman…he got her pregnant, broke her spirit, and snuffed her out. He made it possible for the mixture to take over and send her over the edge.”</p>
<p>                “Literally,” Hayes chimed in, the conflict written as she hugged her ribs and shrugged both shoulders, shrinking into her frame. “Lila Leanne was one of our cold cases, wasn’t she?”</p>
<p>                “Yes, but I think both of you already knew that,” Pastor Burton turned, moving his eyes between both of them as he took careful steps toward a chair near the fireplace, pushing it aside until he could reach a large book tucked away at the edge of a shelf. “This is no Manson, Children of God family, or Heaven’s Gate situation…which is why it has passed under the radar for so long.”</p>
<p>                “What is it, then?” Mulder watched him sit at a corner table and begin thumbing through pages, the determination on his face.</p>
<p>                “It is a carefully constructed lie where women have no value and men think that they are the divine,” Pastor Burton flipped to a map of Cannon Beach and pressed his finger along the book’s spine as he set it on the tabletop, flicking the light to a brighter setting. “Three generations. The settlements keep to the North end and the South end of the town to avoid being questioned, occupying areas in the trees and the hilly areas. Harder to find, desperately difficult to stumble upon.”</p>
<p>                “Three generations? So the youngest children are starting the fourth?” Hayes peered over Whittaker’s shoulder as he leaned in to look at the map with Mulder.</p>
<p>                “Yes, anyone under the age of eighteen, roughly,” Pastor Burton reached for a pen that had been nestled between the pages of a notebook and marked a couple of spots on the map, showing significant sections of the town. “Prominent, rich landowners like Aiden, Kara, and Theo Clark’s family are the leadership while everyone else just falls in line. It is why natural matches between Aiden and Kara are set in stone…every illegitimate affair results in a cast out or a death.”</p>
<p>                “Was every death linked to Aiden?” Whittaker had to bridge it as the elephant in the room seemed to be the leader of the community, which had him remembering how quickly Scully had pissed him off. “Scully really…irked him.”</p>
<p>                “Not all of them but, he protects his inner circle and so does Kara. She’s just as bad as he is, if not worse,” Pastor Burton was pouring the gasoline on the members of the cult while reaching for the box of matches as he pulled a folded page from the back of the book. “I mentioned the elixir before? It used to be made with this exact mixture in one of the businesses owned by a very prominent family.”</p>
<p>                Mulder took the paper, silently reading the ingredients of a psychotropic cocktail from hell, made entirely from ingredients that grew naturally in the forest. “No one would even have thought to test for anything like this except for Agent Scully—she sent off numerous swabs with a residue on each one. All organic material.”</p>
<p>                “Green? Viscous?” Pastor Burton’s attention was on a sliver of light across the floor, his concentration shifting slightly as he left the book open while he went to retrieve another. “Looked like it could have expanded?”</p>
<p>                “All of the above,” Mulder tilted his head as Pastor Burton gathered a smaller, more compact book with frayed edges and handed it to him without a second thought. “What is this?”</p>
<p>                “Take a look,” Pastor Burton held a breath and leaned against his elbow as the wind outside picked up, tapping branches against the siding until it sounded like nails against a chalkboard.</p>
<p>                 Mulder opened the book and found the detailed journals of Pastor Burton’s daughter, starting from the week she had begun a sexual relationship with Aiden. The words of a young woman in love were more than apparent as each page became more glittered with declarations of romance. Mulder continued to skim the pages until things began to take a foreboding turn, even after the news of the pregnancy was written, and the prophetic sense of dread illustrated the change in her world. Lila Leanne had lost her faith in life and love—and it began with the lashings that she’d received after she’d told the man of her dreams that she was carrying his child. She had become swallowed up by the world that Aiden had created.</p>
<p>                “Lila Leanne was being tortured while pregnant…Aiden was trying to kill his child,” Mulder had simply confirmed a suspicion as he turned another page, lifting his eyes for a moment to look at a father that had already lost so much. “Did you intervene?”</p>
<p>                “I tried so many times to get her to come home but she was so determined to keep a promise that meant nothing to Aiden,” Pastor Burton hadn’t revisited the memory of his blue-eyed angel since he’d laid her to rest but the passing of time hadn’t taken away the sting as he wiped a stray tear. “I held her after life had left her. It had been over six months.”</p>
<p>                Mulder had perused to a section near the end, where Lila Leanne had begun to write as though it were more of an instructional manual and less of a journal, his eyes fixating on words that didn’t make any sense. “Pastor, the last three pages of this journal are…off. I don’t understand the linguistic choices she’s using even though every word is decipherable as English.”</p>
<p>                Pastor Burton didn’t need to look, he knew what he was referring to as he rose from the chair and moved to the window, watching the lightning as it darted from behind the trees above the surf. “That’s because there’s a set of terms that apply to outsiders and insiders—Lila Leanne watched an outsider die because she got too close. Aiden calls them “demonstrations”. He doesn’t brand them, degrade them, or break the skin. He breaks them…mentally.”</p>
<p>                “Then sends them out into the dark, to die?” Whittaker was pacing, the irritation climbing as time was slipping away from all of them. “Is that what they’re going to do to Agent Scully?”</p>
<p>                “Tommy, what the hell?” Hayes had already tried to keep Mulder calm and, yet, her fiancé was losing the battle as she reached for his shoulder. “This isn’t going to help.”</p>
<p>                “He isn’t wrong, Hayes,” Mulder’s determination was waning and his voice had taken a turn as he barely lifted his chin to look at her, a sad look behind his irises as he kept the journal open in his grasp. “I can’t lose Scully and the longer I’m sitting around fishing for weak clues, the worse this gets. She’s a fighter but she shouldn’t have to be…not this time.”</p>
<p>                The choice had been made as Pastor Burton turned, his eyes on Mulder while the air went cold and the light began to dim. “I think I know where to start.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>6:30 PM</p>
<p>Old Cannon Beach Rd</p>
<p>Cannon Beach, OR</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                The smell of blood mingled with the hot odor of singed flesh as Emmaline was brought down from the St. Andrews to be bathed, bandaged, and re-dressed in dry garments. Scully had lost consciousness three times from the combination of cold water and the electrocution. Aiden waited only a moment for her to recover before the application of strobing, white lights in her face, or a firm yank of her hair until the whimper echoed in the room. She hadn’t uttered a word in over an hour and the effects of torture were evident as she jumped at the mildest of twitches. He had won part of the battle and another snap of his fingers had her clinging to the back of her cage.</p>
<p>                Something had changed and they descended upon her like vultures that had caught a whiff of the stench of death.</p>
<p>                “Move her, restrain her, and prepare her…she’ll be an effective demonstration,” Aiden opened her cage, knelt at the door, and caressed her chin as she pushed further against the icy steel behind her. “What a pity.”</p>
<p>                “She would’ve been an awfully pretty sister,” Kara was the first to slide up next to him, her features just barely visible as she took the lead in pulling Scully from the spot on the floor. “Her devotion and the beauty she hides…it is a pity, isn’t it, sisters?”</p>
<p>                “A great pity,” Their voices were unified, identical, and dreary as they yanked her from the confines of the cage and clasped a set of irons around her ankles.</p>
<p>                “You cannot run,” Aiden stood directly in front of Scully, her significantly shorter stature shrinking before him as the group of women manipulated her into a singular position. “You’ll discover that you are on a very short leash.”</p>
<p>                “Our trespasser isn’t going anywhere,” Kara pivoted and kissed her fiancé with a little more fire than Scully wanted to witness as her faculties were betraying her. “You do what is necessary…I’ll take care of everything here.”</p>
<p>                Aiden smiled and shook his head, reminding her gently as the click of cuffs brought his eyes toward Scully. “You know I have to remain until the paper is burned…”</p>
<p>                Kara gave a single nod and returned to her task as Scully’s knees buckled. The weakness lasted for mere seconds as her wrists were guided above her head where the metal affixed around her delicate flesh was secured to a dangling hook. It kept her standing and incapable of running as she was near her tiptoes. The ritual had begun and there was no fight left. Aiden was just off to the side, watching as his fiancée began cutting away the soaked material of Scully’s slacks and shirt, leaving her exposed in her underwear.</p>
<p>                There was satisfaction in seeing Scully tremble; exposed to everyone in the room until the tears silently fell.</p>
<p>                “Red or the black?” Kara didn’t look at Aiden but the question was for him as she looked at the array of items in front of Emmaline.</p>
<p>                “Black,” Aiden took another step backward and raised a brow as Kara held up the satin while Scully’s arms were lowered for a moment. “…like the collective of sins she represents.”</p>
<p>                Scully barely blinked as the long nightgown was tugged into place, fitting her despite how foreign the material felt. She found herself desperate to retch but there was nothing to let go of as her stomach just rolled, matching the dizzying sensation in her head. Her eyes lifted and she made brief eye contact with Emmaline, identifying only with the pain on her face before the exchange of the black dahlia red lipstick was made. Scully felt nothing but dread as Kara held her chin and applied the color, trapping her chin from moving as Scully became their living doll. Kara held the applicator between her fingers and beamed, admiring her work for a moment before mimicking Aiden’s finger snap.</p>
<p>                “Dana Katherine Scully,” Kara spoke the words as a flicker of flame came from the corner of the room, the permeating odor of cedar, driftwood, and paper barely pulling Scully’s focus as she lifted her chin to see. “Trespassing is punishable by death.”</p>
<p>                The paper began to burn and Scully didn’t anticipate the dust cloud that would follow as a thick plume of powder was blown into her face by three, separate women. Scully coughed and clamped her eyes shut as the second wave of particulates hit her nostrils, filling her airways like a cloud of pulverized earth. She couldn’t avoid inhaling it. It didn’t take long for every muscle to stiffen and loosen in succession as Scully fought the substance filling her lungs. Kara closed the space between them, pushing her thumb against Scully’s windpipe until she was forced to swallow, giving up the futile attempt to exhale.</p>
<p>                “You will listen,” Kara squeezed and watched as Scully’s eyes opened, the dilation nearly instant as the tears were falling down her pale cheeks. “That’s a good girl.”</p>
<p>               </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Qutoes by: <br/>Deblina Halder<br/>Andrew Hozier Byrne</p>
<p>Repeating something I mentioned at the beginning...because I have to say thank you AGAIN to my contact on cult information. Your heart is so open, pure, and awesome for helping me to understand the kind of things that happen. It is so appreciated.</p>
<p>Monika, thank you for doing so much work to bust these through. The feedback was so pivotal.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Charred Remains</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mulder continues his search for Scully as a storm rages…and an unlikely source of help comes from the woodwork to steer him in the right direction. Will he be able to get to her in time and what will the repercussions be of her physical and mental torture?</p>
<p>“I didn’t need saving, just someone I wouldn’t need to save myself from.” – Jessica Katoff</p>
<p>Charred /CHärd/ <br/>Adjective - burned and blackened. "charred remains"</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hemlock and Crestview Dr addresses are, essentially, real for logistics only. The final chapter will depart, slightly, from the timeline of the show – Arcadia would have already happened by the time that the last sections are set. Granted, Scully could have been “cleared” to return and pretended to be fine (ignoring the other, underlying issues). </p>
<p>Warning: Open discussion about suicide, varying degrees of torture, and cult behavior is mentioned in this fic. None of it is intended to harm or, otherwise, trigger the reader. This chapter will describe, in detail, the varying degrees of torture that one would experience during forced imprisonment. It is accurate to multiple cults and was treated with care concerning the subject matter. Please note that it might be disturbing.</p>
<p>This is a serious issue, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is available to help. The lifeline provides 24/7, free and confidential support for people in distress, prevention and crisis resources for you or your loved ones, and best practices for professionals. Please, call 1-800-273-8255. Don’t stay silent. This might be “just a fic” but it holds real issues, with real consequences. Don’t suffer alone.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>And the only solution was to stand and fight</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And my body was bruised and I was set alight</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>But you came over me like some holy rite</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And although I was burning, you’re the only light</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Only if for a night</em>
</p>
<p>-Paul Epworth/Florence Welch</p>
<p> </p>
<p>7:30 PM</p>
<p>1831 S Hemlock Street</p>
<p>Cannon Beach, Oregon</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                “We’ve been at this for hours and the storm is really starting to pick up,” Mulder had the wipers on an intermittent setting as the rain pelted the windshield while they were angled at the edge of the drive, hidden by shrubbery.</p>
<p>                <em>I don’t have time to waste when Scully is still out there.</em></p>
<p>                Mulder flicked at the wiper setting, unintentionally pushing it faster then slower. His ticks were becoming more noticeable as his knee moved beneath the wheel, thumping against it as he tapped the floor. No one dared mention it, though. They knew he was going out of his mind with fear and it wasn’t the time nor the place to get irritated over fidgeting. Mulder wasn’t used to occupying the same space while he slowly lost the battle and it was becoming apparent as he accidentally made eye-contact with Whittaker in the rearview.</p>
<p>                Mulder didn’t want anyone’s concern. He just wanted Scully back.</p>
<p>                “This is the house,” Pastor Burton was studying the front of the house as he sat comfortably next to Mulder in the front seat while the storm began to batter the beach in the dim. “The windows are covered, there are no lights visible, and the only movement has been two women going in then out minutes later…this is where they get the mixture before going to another location.”</p>
<p>                “Where is the other location?” Whittaker was perched between the seats, his elbow against the armrest between the front seats to get a better look with the men at the better vantage while Hayes kept her eyes trained on the back window, in the third row.</p>
<p>                “It has probably changed over the years,” Pastor Burton wiped a layer of fog from the inside of the side window and rubbed his hands together as a third woman disappeared into the large, heavily shrouded house. “They used to have three locations but one of the homes was demolished in 1989 after one girl accidentally gave away the location—because she had been held there against her will.”</p>
<p>                “What happened to her case?” Hayes continued to watch for headlights or looky-loos as the conversation pulled a portion of her attention.</p>
<p>                “I don’t remember her name but I want to say that she disappeared,” Pastor Burton sighed and narrowed his stare at the steps, hoping to see the woman leaving but all he could see was the storm door swinging on its hinges. “There was a rumor at the time that the Sheriff at the time helped in making her disappear.”</p>
<p>                “With the sheer amount of forestry acreage, she’s out there,” Mulder wound his thumb around the rental keyring, looping it and loosening it to take his focus off of Scully. “Someone would’ve missed her.”</p>
<p>                “There was always someone that could miss each one, Agent Mulder,” Pastor Burton sighed and briefly looked his way, almost with a parental intent. “It was easy to cajole every mother into forgetting that their babies had gone…because they didn’t value anything anymore.”</p>
<p>                “Commodities not children,” Whittaker furrowed his brow and tilted his chin as a gust of wind battered the driver’s side of the SUV, shaking it until it swirled onto the top. “We’re running out of time and this storm is making landfall.”</p>
<p>                “This missing Agent Scully is facing more demons than I can illustrate to any of you in words,” Pastor Burton bypassed the majority of the comment from Whittaker, aiming the unusual calm in Mulder’s direction as he folded his hands in his lap. “She will need strength on this night.”</p>
<p>                “Wait a second, is that Felecia?” Mulder squinted at the windshield, at the figure on the steps as an exit was beginning, her pale visage shrouded by a hood as she seemed to linger. “I don’t think she’s there for any elixir.”</p>
<p>                “I don’t either,” Pastor Burton mimicked Mulder’s motions and reached for the door handle, feeling the release of a secretive click as the squall pushed against the SUV. “…she’s too young.”</p>
<p>                “Felecia, what are you doing out here in this weather?” Mulder was out of the vehicle first and startled her so badly that she nearly tumbled down the remaining steps. “Whoa, steady on those feet.”</p>
<p>                “Agent Mulder?” Felecia’s face was covered in the spritz from rain and her clothes were half soaked as she held onto the railing while regaining her footing to get to the bottom of the steps. “I…I came to try anything to stop them.”</p>
<p>                “Stop who from what?” Mulder stood in the path of the sideways rain, taking the brunt of it against his back as he could hear the footfalls of his company behind him. “You’re not making any sense, Felecia.”</p>
<p>                Felecia fidgeted in her rubber boots, swaying the unnecessary weight of a wet skirt in the process as she feverishly wiped the accumulated precipitation from her face, her voice meek as she looked up at him. “I know what they’re going to do to your partner if they haven’t already done it. I watched Courtney just walk away knowing she didn’t want to…she was happy. She wanted to be a mother. She would never go willingly.”</p>
<p>                “How do you know all of this?” Hayes already resembled a drowned rat as her blond locks clung to her skin and flailed against the gale while she took a step forward to make eye contact with the teenager. “There must be more to this than a theory.”</p>
<p>                “I was helping Courtney prepare for the baby. She even had names picked out, Dylan for a boy and Iliana for a girl,” Felecia glanced over her shoulder, up at the unlatched screen door as it swung as the thunder clapped until the ground shook beneath their feet. “She would never have killed herself. She was sad but she loved the baby growing inside of her.”</p>
<p>                “You know they influence all of these girls, Felecia, and you’re not immune to that,” Mulder didn’t want to scare her but there was something frantic in it as he lowered his voice and narrowed his stare, letting his heart bleed. “Give us something definitive to get to where we need to go…to find Scully. Help us.”</p>
<p>                “Oh, really? You’re going to prey on an innocent child to obtain what you want, Agent Mulder?” Aiden’s voice crashed the sense of urgency and turned everything on its heels as he stood on the porch, his smirk visible in the dimmed light of an open door. “Little sister, get back in the house. You know that you’re not allowed around strange men.”</p>
<p>                “I don’t want to go,” Felecia had her eyes glued to Mulder, firmly saying it as she stayed perfectly still. “It was his.”</p>
<p>                “That is no shock, child,” Pastor Burton could barely hear her but he knew what she was indicating as he stood between her and the rising steps, turning his disgust toward Aiden. “Do you derive satisfaction over destroying life, Aiden?”</p>
<p>                “Old man, you know you’ve never been welcome here or anywhere, for that matter,” Aiden’s false sense of righteousness was deepening as he glared at Pastor Burton, trying to scope out his sister as she refused to look at him. “You will not inflict sin upon my little sister…you will not shine your false prophecies upon her sweet, innocent face.”</p>
<p>                “Your little sister deserves to know the number of children you would’ve added to the family if you would’ve let them come to be,” Pastor Burton hadn’t been the type to push buttons but he did just that as the movement within the house over the hum of lightning in the sky. “Or have you lost count?”</p>
<p>                “Little sister, you don’t need to hear all of these lies,” Aiden was increasingly irate as Felecia hadn’t moved toward the house, her position only gravitating toward Mulder’s as he continued. “Get back inside.”</p>
<p>                “I think Felecia is better off out here,” Mulder glanced back at her wide eyes, the fear evident as she tied the strings to her coat and lowered her chin. “She does have freedom of choice.”</p>
<p>                “I am her guardian and she will do as I say,” Aiden snapped but kept his voice even keel as he took a step down toward them in hopes of intimidating them.</p>
<p>                “There’s the real Aiden Townsend,” Pastor Landon grinned and tilted his head as Aiden was just feet away, the intention to light a fire on the situation as he continued. “Demanding and a collector of women…wait, that’s discarder of women.”</p>
<p>                “You are not in a position to judge while you reside, carefully, among the fringe, just a step away from an exile,” Aiden was already being battered by the rain as he was two steps from the bottom, his anger climbing as the last of his patience was taken by the storm.</p>
<p>                “I’m not going back in there and I’m not letting this go any further,” Felecia tugged on Mulder’s outer coat, waiting until he looked directly at her, the urgency written on her face. “I know where to go…we’re running out of time.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>8:00 PM</p>
<p>Old Cannon Beach Road</p>
<p>Cannon Beach, Oregon</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                Felecia led the way down a darkened drive as Mulder, Whittaker, Hayes, and Pastor Burton followed as closely as they could in the nearly pitch blackness. The short bursts of white light blitzing across the sky, staggering the appearance of muddy prints along the ground in the opposite direction. The house was dim, absent of any radiant light as Felecia went to the same back deck that Scully had stumbled upon, paying little mind to the notion of getting caught. She didn’t care anymore. She wanted it all to stop as she flung open the door.</p>
<p>                “Are you sure they’re still here?” Mulder’s voice was low, just above a whisper, taking careful steps just behind her.</p>
<p>                “I don’t know,” Felecia was already halfway to the same hallway that Scully had explored earlier, with the door at the end, where the scent of burning flesh and blood was beginning to waft through the air. “It’s too quiet in here…something is wrong. I really hope we’re not too late.”</p>
<p>                Hearing <em>I really hope we’re not too late</em> was the last thing that Mulder needed as the hallway’s floorboards creaked beneath their feet. Felecia had to pry the basement door open, wrenching on the handle hard enough that she broke the locking mechanism in the process. The chilly draft hit them both like a punch to the face, carrying the mixture of soot, blood, and rust along with it. Felecia looked back only once to gauge Mulder’s intestinal fortitude before descending into the poorly lit basement. Every hair on the back of Mulder’s neck was standing on end as his eyes homed in on swinging, twisted chains hanging from the rafters before moving toward the St. Andrews residing against one wall.</p>
<p>                Imagining Scully being trapped in this room for any length of time had Mulder ready to lose the rest of his grip on sanity.</p>
<p>                “What the hell happened down here?” Mulder felt the remnant of a splash beneath his boots as he stepped onto the concrete and did a full turn, his eyes wide.</p>
<p>                “They kept her in a cage,” Felecia heard his inhale stop as she pulled a string in the middle of the room, shedding a large oval of light on the center of the room, where the cages still resided. “She was here…we need to go.”</p>
<p>                “Do you smell that?” Pastor Burton was at the top of the stairs, his voice echoing through the cavernous space until Mulder and Felecia spun to look at him.</p>
<p>                “Medicinal and earthy,” Mulder wrinkled his nose and made a face as he squinted through the haze of too many scents to wheedle through. “Fungus…oh no.”</p>
<p>                “You know exactly where they’ve sent her and we need to go,” Felecia pushed her fingers through the pile of charred remains, a portion of Scully’s name written on the paper that had been burned sticking out from the center. “Right now…we need to leave. I know of a shortcut that might help.”</p>
<p>                Mulder didn’t argue with the sage wisdom of the teenager willing to help them, even as her ash-covered fingers wiped across the bright linen skirt while she maneuvered around him. He followed Felecia back into the weather, barely allowing Hayes, Whittaker, and Pastor Burton to catch up as they went right back to the rental. The look of determination on Felecia’s face was the kind that was marred by years of being told exactly what not to do as her hands shook in the front seat. Describing her as traumatized would not have gone far enough and Mulder knew it as he put the SUV into reverse.</p>
<p>                “Where am I going, kid?” Mulder needed her calm as he glanced at her dirty, trembling hands before making eye contact.</p>
<p>                “Drive toward Sixth Street and turn right, follow it down until you see a junction for Ecola State Park Road,” Felecia talked above the squealing of the tires as Mulder was already ready to turn onto Sixth, his hands gripping the wheel as the all-wheel-drive kept them planted. “You’re going to see the signs for Crescent Beach…”</p>
<p>                “The cliffs,” Pastor Burton sighed from the backseat as the thunder rolled, shaking the humming vehicle as it cut through the thicket, the fog lights doing their best through the mist. “You need to go to the cliffs.”</p>
<p>                Mulder couldn’t think about the implications of Scully being out in the storm but his soul already ached at the prospect of something dire. His ears began to ring so severely that he couldn’t even hear the sound of Whittaker calling Officer Hutchens while Hayes was getting the order for arrests. It was a mess and his untrained passengers were the only ones that understood the kind of mental anguish he was putting himself through. Pastor Burton’s hand clasped over Mulder’s shoulder, squeezing it, resonating through his frame until the sound returned with a pop in his eardrums as another bolt of lightning stretched her jagged, twisted fingers across the sky. The white and blue twisted and dropped, pointing toward another divide in the road, as the signs for Crescent Beach came into view.</p>
<p>                Prophetically. Foreboding. A blow to the psyche.</p>
<p>                “We’ll have backup, Mulder,” Whittaker’s voice over the chaos nearly caused Mulder to drive directly into the ditch after nearly missing the turn. “Jesus.”</p>
<p>                “Sorry…fuck,” Mulder swallowed hard and felt his heart thudding in his throat as he could see the ocean through the windshield. “Where the hell are you? Come on, Scully, you’re taller than this fucking grass…”</p>
<p>                Felecia rolled the window down, letting in the sea spray and rain, drawing in Mulder’s attention for a split second as he weaved around a corner, the cliffs in the distance Felecia grunted while she yanked her heavy coat off and draped it over the center console. Hayes and Whittaker were concerned as the seat belt came off from her lap before she slid forward, aiming her shoulders at the edge of the window. Mulder and Pastor Burton had a feeling of what she was doing. Reckless as it was, no one was going to stop her. She needed to do something, anything, to help.</p>
<p>                “Try not to throw me off the side,” Felecia gave Mulder a solitary warning and scooted up onto the frame, leaning out until she was only visible from the waist down.</p>
<p>                “What in the hell is she doing?” Hayes shifted in the third row and bumped the ceiling of the SUV, her brows furrowed as the concern for Felecia was more than apparent.</p>
<p>                “Lighting the way,” Pastor Burton could see a thin, bright light jumping around in the grass, darting around like a firefly, searching for any source of movement and he knew it was coming from Felecia’s pocket light. “She’s searching…”</p>
<p>                Mulder could barely see the road and the swaying grass on either side of the beams from the headlights, his occasional glance in the general direction of the jumping flashes from Felecia’s solo search. She had it aimed toward the trees, moving it along the well-worn path that had already ushered too many to their deaths, hoping to catch a glimpse of anything. The SUV moved across a healthy patch of mud and began to slide along the backend, rocking the cabin just enough to give concern as Mulder reached a hand across to snatch Felecia by the foot to hold her steady. It did the trick as another slick of mud moved the front end awkwardly in the other direction. No one was going to die tonight.</p>
<p>                “Agent Mulder,” Pastor Burton pointed straight ahead, at the fixed point of light to the right, just below the tree line as Felecia’s palm tapped against the top of the SUV. “…Look.”</p>
<p>                Mulder couldn’t stop the vehicle fast enough as he barely had enough time to make out the figure moving through the blades of grass. It was her, dressed in black, hair blowing in the wind, with her fists balled at her sides. His heart nearly leaped out of his chest as he pressed the brakes, nearly skidding while Felecia held onto the top of the SUV. Mulder barely assured himself that he’d shifted into park before swinging the door open to go running out after her, with the assistance of Felecia’s steadfast light in the grass, leading his way to Scully. He wouldn’t have been able to say it loud enough that he needed her but he did while the beach grass slapped against his limbs.</p>
<p>                “Scully!” Mulder called out to her, hoping it would make her flinch, but it seemed to have little effect as it became clear how far away the look in her eyes truly was. “Come on! Don’t do this, Scully! I’m right here!”</p>
<p>                The distance between them was growing nearer but she was entirely too close to winning the game of chicken as the cliff’s edge was barely closer than he was. Mulder jumped over a section of rocks and nearly took a header through sinking sand as he crossed over the second path. The recovery was swift as Mulder gritted his teeth, pushing his toes through the divots in the sunken grade, eyes locked onto the thin satin across her body as it fluttered in the zephyr. She was so close and yet, just far enough to scare the daylights out of him. Mulder could hear her, mumbling toward the crashing waves, and knew that he was losing precious seconds.</p>
<p>                He never thought he’d need to pull Scully from the literal edge but it was far too close as that wretched scent of fungus was still lingering, reminding him that this wasn’t what it seemed.</p>
<p>                “It’ll be over soon, just walk,” Scully’s voice was raspy and ragged, filled with the agony that Mulder felt in his heart as her steady pace only continued the weaving, slippery path while the waves crashed against the shore. “Every memory will be gone. It’ll be over soon. Just…have to walk.”</p>
<p>                “God dammit, Scully,” Mulder’s digits slipped through the material of the nightgown as he slid forward, stretching his arms once more until he could feel her wrist between his fingers and hear the sobbing that followed. “Come back to me…I’m right here. I can’t fucking lose you. Do you hear me? I can’t.”</p>
<p>                Scully’s feet were still moving even as Mulder tugged her back against his chest, away from the crumbling edge, away from certain death. “You’re not real…they…told me this would happen if I didn’t…I have to go or it won’t go away…Non-conformity is punishable by death. I fought. I didn’t conform…”</p>
<p>                “Scully, I’m right here,” Mulder spun her around, snaking both arms around her as she radiated nothing but the chills and pain as she cried into the air until his palm moved across her cheek. “I’m real and I’m here.”</p>
<p>                Scully’s eyes fluttered, she was almost unable to look at him until the warmth of his touch on her skin finally brought her back to him, long enough to feel. “Mulder? Are you really real?”</p>
<p>                “Yeah,” Mulder slid out of his coat and wrapped her in it, securing her in the only way he knew how as he lifted her out of the sand and grass while she sobbed against his neck. “I’ve got you. We’re getting you out of here.”</p>
<p>                Scully’s hands, weak as they were, gripped his shirt with more anguish than ever before while the cries began to soften. “Aiden is in my head…he said that you were giving up…and I didn’t know what else to do…just don’t let go of me, please. I can’t do it again.”</p>
<p>                “I’m not going anywhere and you’re not going anywhere without me,” Mulder carried her down the path, his fingers gliding along her back as he adjusted his grip on her, moving beyond the first barrier as the reds and blue flashing lights began to appear in the distance.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Friday, March 12<sup>th</sup> 1999, 1:30 PM</p>
<p>Crestview Drive</p>
<p>Elko, NV</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                “It’s not the lushest plot of land, ma’am, but it has everything you’re looking for,” The realtor’s khakis were slapping like a flag in the breeze, kicking up a dust devil at his ankles as he made a grandiose gesture at the large plot behind him. “As I mentioned over the phone, there are five, established residences with room for at least three more. Gated, private, comfortable, with a large barn for extra storage…”</p>
<p>                “Just like a budding community. It will be perfect in our hour of need, Sir,” Kara had her hair pinned up, carefully wrapped in a ballerina’s bun, her penetrative eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, her smile perched below. “What did you say your name was again? You have a great smile and those eyes…I bet your wife is just smitten.”</p>
<p>                “Bradley, ma’am, Bradley Montgomery,” Bradley shifted his weight and kicked the dirt, his blond locks perfectly coiffed as he blushed despite his best efforts not to. “There’s no Mrs. Montgomery…it’s just lil ole me and a couple of cats.”</p>
<p>                “Well, Bradley…we’ve gotten here just in time to celebrate St. Fina, the patron of the less fortunate,” Kara bit her lip and snapped her fingers at the two vans in the large, cul de sac style drive, as the doors opened, ushering the troupe of women and a couple of men to slip into the sunlight, led by Mack, who seemed confident and proud as he moved toward Kara. “You’ll have to include what kind of meat you like with your card when we…sign the paperwork for the property?”</p>
<p>                “Perhaps he’d like to join us in celebration?” The unmistakable face of Sarah Hutchens was the first to greet her as a rosary was passed between the two, her chilly smirk marked by a subtle wink as their palms met. “What’s one more seat at the table?”</p>
<p>                “That’s a great idea, sister,” Kara resumed the flirtations as she trapped the cross between her fingers, rolling it around as her attention was fully on Bradley.</p>
<p>                “Well, what’s a good time for you to get that contract done? It could be an evening ordeal if that’s convenient for you,” Bradley winked and watched as the group began to wander, their shockingly similar attire barely registering as he renewed his eye contact with Kara. “By the way…no one around here will judge your chosen lifestyle. Whether that be Fundamentalist Mormon, or not.”</p>
<p>                “Oh, Bradley, we’re not FLDS, but we appreciate the sentiment,” Kara’s wide smile and perfect teeth had captivated the realtor just enough that he hadn’t noticed the twitch from the young man at her side. “We’re just an extended, Godly community that had far too much wretchedness thrown our way…we could use a little peace, comfort, and a new place to start a life for ourselves.”</p>
<p>                “This is a great community,” Bradley toed the dirt and shuffled his feet again, watching her thumb a white, pearlescent rosary around her wrist as she held her hands together. “You won’t have any trouble fitting in and making friends.”</p>
<p>                “So, sister, is this the place?” Mack eyed her from behind his sunglasses, keeping Bradley in his periphery as he gently placed a palm to her elbow to nudge her back to reality.</p>
<p>                Kara tilted her chin and turned to look at him, at the change in his demeanor as the deep red of a fresh brand along her shoulder blade began to peek out from beneath her sundress. “Yes, I do believe that we’re home.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Friday, March 19<sup>th</sup>, 1999 9:30 PM</p>
<p>2630 Hegal Place, Apartment 42</p>
<p>Alexandria, VA</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                “…When I see her, I’ll give her the update,” Mulder had the phone to his ear as he paced the floor, his eyes lingering on the closed door that led to the hall while the other party chattered on. “…if either of you hear anything else? Just call…uh huh…bye.”</p>
<p>                The month hadn’t been kind to either of them. Scully’s recovery had been marred by visits to a psychologist to be deemed “fit for duty” or not. It wasn’t a request by Skinner. The task was required above his head and she complied, reluctantly. Seeing another shrink wasn’t the issue for her, but rather admitting that there was anything still lingering in her head, in her bones, in her gut. Scully had done her best to avoid the topic of conversation with Mulder, down to pretending as though there was nothing to be concerned about.</p>
<p>                Mulder knew better. Mulder knew Scully better.</p>
<p>                The soft, melodic knocks at the door couldn’t have arrived at a better time and he knew, with certainty, that it was her. Mulder did a once over of the room he hadn’t left all of his takeout boxes open and sprawled like a pig living in his filth while taking a whiff of his pits. One can never be too careful or cautious over a notoriously suspect pile of laundry that may or may not be clean. It wasn’t as though the prospect of spending time with her away from the office had him nervous but, rather, that he’d been thinking. He’d been thinking a little too much, about everything and nothing all at once.</p>
<p>                “Are you just going to stare at me while I stand out here or…can I come in?” Scully snapped him back to reality as he held the door handle, not even realizing he’d pulled it open already.</p>
<p>                “Oh, yeah, sorry Scully,” Mulder pivoted just slightly and watched her move through the doorway, subtly inhaling the perfume that wafted off of her as she passed. “Agent Whittaker called to give me another update but I think he just wanted to gush a little more about setting a date with Agent Hayes.”</p>
<p>                “They set a date?” Scully slipped off her coat and draped it over a chair, her eyes drifting over the clutter on the table as she exhaled slowly. “Wow, that’s some news, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>                “We’re invited, apparently,” Mulder could hear the scoff as she turned her back to slide out of her shoes, the audible relief carrying as he heard the sigh as he shut the door quietly. “They’ve lost sight of Kara and her wayward revamped cult. She drained Townsend of his assets and managed to go completely rogue.”</p>
<p>                “It’s like she was almost worse than he was,” Scully wandered into the living room, purposely putting distance between them as she felt his penetrating and the awkwardness hovering in the air as she glanced to acknowledge him. “At least one of them will be paying the price for every murder, torture, and bodily harm inflicted out there…that’s reassuring.”</p>
<p>                “Eleven original arrests and nine of them are going to stick after plea deals,” Mulder wanted nothing more than to put his arms around her as he studied her while she stared out the window, the distance in her eyes. “All of the kids, teenagers, et cetera…going to get a second chance at life.”</p>
<p>                “After what they’ve been through, they need it,” Scully hugged herself, drawing her arms in until her shoulders dropped down, managing to make her petite frame that much moreso. “It’s hard to believe how quickly it went down…”</p>
<p>                “Whittaker and Hayes did all of the leg work, we just set off the explosives,” Mulder cleared his throat, contemplating the softness of her features as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear, nodding at the sound of his voice. “Seemed like longer to me…”</p>
<p>
  <em>                Is there still hope?</em>
</p>
<p>                It was on both of their minds but for drastically different reasons as Mulder eclipsed the distance, brushing his arm against Scully’s. The flinch was subtle but noticeable enough to cast darkness on what should have been soft, comfortable, and welcomed. Scully pressed her lips together, forced a smile, and sank into the leather before staring at his hand as it played with the hem of his shirt. Scully would never have said it out loud but she might as well have been back there, locked in a cage, calling out his name. That nightmare was still set to repeat and no amount of tender touches to the small of her back or pretending in a house in California could erase the number of times she’d woke up in a sweat, ready to scream.</p>
<p>                “You’re looking at me like I’m going to shatter,” Scully didn’t need to see his face to know it was true as she ran a hand across her face, relieved a tear hadn’t escaped.</p>
<p>                “It’s selfish of me to even wonder but I am haunted by the idea that, despite the volume of hallucinogens in your system, there was a fleeting thought that you wanted to jump, Scully,” Mulder crossed the bridge and watched her hands start to shake as she held them together in her lap, squeezing her fingers until her knuckles went white. “That mixture doesn’t work unless someone feels a certain amount of pull.”</p>
<p>                “I know,” Scully fixated on the empty coffee cup on the table in front of her while he continued to stand, the sensation of which inspired a certain level of fear as she finally lifted her chin to look at him. “My deposition wasn’t needed and the only person that has heard what happened in that basement is an FBI-appointed therapist…I’m here but there are pieces of me that feel every bit of that horror. I really can’t have you standing, I need you to sit.”</p>
<p>                Mulder lowered himself onto the cushion next to her and felt her hand around his, tugging at the strings of his heart as she grappled with emotions with him at her side. “I don’t want you to tell me something and rip open a wound...but I need you to know that every time I contemplate losing you, my head wraps around the night that you threatened resignation and I can’t help but think about everything that I’d miss.”</p>
<p>                It was eating at him, dismantling the last of his defenses, and having her this close was making it worse as her perfume only made him recollect it more vividly. The scent of salt on her skin, her hair, pulling her from the balcony, and the taste of her lips. Every moment had been on his mind, replaying in detail, only to be crushed to pieces as he thought about the edge of a cliff. His imagination had been cruel; leaving him to wonder if nightmares had come true as he woke in the dark, alone. Every time it was all too real and Mulder wanted Scully near.</p>
<p>                “I can’t even take a shower without the sound taking me back to having a water hose turned on me and all I wanted was to hear your voice coming from the top of those stairs to end it,” Scully inhaled a sharp, deep breath as she fought the tears while Mulder’s fingers stroked the top of her hand, soothing as she recollected. “Constant cold, choking on water, hearing no one speak but him…and none of it was good…I saw no other way out.”</p>
<p>                “Scully, I would give anything to go back and erase every second of that. Restore a semblance of easement for you,” Mulder gathered the streak of moisture from her cheek, lingering against the porcelain and pink until the ocean was finally looking back at him, adoration in his eyes. “Come back to me…I’m here.”</p>
<p>                “I was only down there for hours, Mulder, and it is a drop in a bucket by comparison,” Scully’s attention was on him as she drove the point home, racking her brain over the refusal to say that she broke even though Mulder knew already. “If it had been a day or a week...or worse?”</p>
<p>                “You can’t think about that,” Mulder brought her hand to his chest, the constant beating of his heart vibrating against her palm. “Tell me what I can do.”</p>
<p>                “Mulder,” Scully moved her knees against his thigh, edging past the self-imposed limits as she encouraged his wrist higher on hers. “I want to go back to that night…before second-guessing got in the way.”</p>
<p>                “Let me go get a glass of water and I’ll pour it on the floor,” Mulder smirked and listened to the sound of her giggle, as he started to slide backward. “It’ll help with the ambiance.”</p>
<p>                “Why do I put up with you?” Scully had the remnants of a grin plastered on her lips as she leaned back, the color in her cheeks deepening as she dotted her digits along his forearm.</p>
<p>                Mulder winked and enveloped her, slipping his fingers through her hair while his thumb pushed her chin up toward his, encroaching on her personal space until he could feel her breath on his neck. “Pretenses, you like it—I think you love it a little bit.”</p>
<p>                The flutter of Scully’s lashes beckoned him in and Mulder lost himself in the moment as his mouth covered hers, hands gathered at the back of her neck, and their legs entwined like vines, gathering her closer. He wrapped her within his limbs, inviting and electrifying mutual heat that had laid dormant, tempting fate for a second time. This time, though, was different as the mutual affectation was more than an expression, more than an outpouring of need, and so much more than years of unspoken lust. Mulder wanted her to forget the pain and Scully simply craved the reality that he was present, cloaked around her. It was the personification of a love that had teetered on the literal edge of a cliff, nearly falling.</p>
<p>                For the first time, it didn’t matter where this moment led as long as Mulder simply held onto Scully.</p>
<p>                “Are you sure?” Scully’s eyes were still closed, her head tilted back with Mulder’s hand slipping along the places that scars now existed beneath the protection of her shirt, popping every one of her buttons free. “Mulder?”</p>
<p>                “I’ll tell you something, Scully,” Mulder popped the last two buttons free and carefully placed a kiss on her bottom lip as he dragged the material down her shoulders while she watched him move down her abs, kissing each mark. “You couldn’t persuade me of anything else…anything less…than what you’ve always been…and what you always will be…”</p>
<p>                Scully inhaled a breath as she gathered fingers along his scalp while he caressed the expanse of her back, lavishing the curves of her ribs with kisses. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve loved anyone the way I love you and, if this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up…”</p>
<p>                “This is not a dream, Scully,” Mulder came up to meet her again, sliding her thighs around his as the leather yielded beneath them, sinking a little further under their weight. “Loving you is the only reason I have to wake up every morning.”</p>
<p>                Scully studied the curve of Mulder’s lip as he rocked against her, the delicate separation of heat and passion melting together as she tugged at the material of his shirt. It felt right and they were in no hurry despite the pressure of seams against skin and nerves. They could move, slowly, painstakingly, until it ached far too much to draw it out. Even as Scully’s teeth grazed Mulder’s bottom lip, urging him on, he simply circled his fingertips along tender flesh until he heard his name slip like a secret into the air. They gazed into one another, into the places that hadn’t held onto another in far too long.</p>
<p>                They were, without any doubt, each other’s light in the darkness.</p>
<p>                Mulder knew that there was a flicker of knowledge of the battle ahead that he’d face to get Scully beyond the terror that she’d experienced. He took it seriously and understood the gravity of the choice he was making. His consciousness wrapped around it as his fingers met the center of her back, tugging at the satin and lace that lay between him and her. Scully wasn’t going to do this alone and the lingering effects of horror, of the demonstration of an unspoken strength she didn’t know she had, weren’t going to become some secret to be held in the dark as his Mulder’s thumbs popped the hooks from the eyelets.</p>
<p>                They were one step closer to tugging away another boundary as Mulder’s desperation swept some of the missing pieces of Scully’s soul back into place.</p>
<p>                Little by little, moment by moment…breath by breath, starting with a murmur and the elongated sigh of leather.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Quotes by:<br/>Jessica Katoff<br/>Paul Epworth/Florence Welch</p>
<p>To my cult expert, thank you. <br/>Monika...sweet Jesus, girl, I don't know what I would've done without you. Thank you.</p>
<p>To Annie...I hope that this has touched on everything you could've wanted...down to the easter eggs, the angst, the MSR, and the little details that referenced one of your fics. I hope you loved it because I adored every moment writing it for you.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Quotes by:<br/>Jonathan Lockwood Huie<br/>M.R.<br/>Khalil Gilbran</p><p>Song Mentioned:<br/>Young Turks by Rod Stewart</p><p>A huge thank you to the person that gave me so much information on the "strange behaviors" of certain not so good individuals. Without you, it might not pack a punch. Your advice was necessary and appreciated. </p><p>To Monika...your beta work was spot on and I thank you dearly for doing it despite the stress we have been under. Thank you for working through it and finding the bits and pieces I missed.</p><p>As always, comments and kudos are appreciated, encouraged, and welcomed. I adore each and every one.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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